


Just the Two of Us

by Discreet



Category: Worm - Wildbow
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 17:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 44,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8676778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Discreet/pseuds/Discreet
Summary: Taylor meets with the Undersiders hoping that they'll ask her to join their team.Things don't go as planned.





	1. Chapter 1

A strong gust of wind blew across the rooftop, stirring my hair into an even bigger mess. But the wind wasn't what had me stopped cold. That was the money.

"Two grand," Lisa said with a smile, indicating the lunchbox I had just opened.

I swallowed, the slick sound echoing in my ears. Eight stacks of bills lay in the lunchbox, paper bands wrapped around their middle. It seemed like so little and at the same time so much. I had never held so much money in my hands before.

"You have two choices," Lisa spoke up, catching my attention, "You can take that as a gift. A thank you for, intentionally or not, saving our ass from Lung last night. And maybe a bit of incentive to count us among your friends when you're out in costume and doing dastardly deeds."

She paused, her grin widening at the mention of 'dastardly deeds'. I could the light in her eyes as she laughed at her own little private joke before she went on, "Between territory disputes, differences in ideology, general power struggles and egos, there's a rare few people in the local villain community who won't attack us on sight."

"And the second option?" I asked, my mouth still dry.

"You can take this as your first installment in the monthly allowance you're entitled to as a member of the Undersiders," Brian answered, "As one of us."

Lisa shot Brian an annoyed look, clearly sour she didn't get to deliver the knock-out punch. For what it was worth, it had landed perfectly. We were dead-center of the roof, far from any edges, but I could still feel a dizzying sense of vertigo.

They wanted _me_ to join them?

I was trembling. I _knew_ I was trembling. I had to calm down. My heart was beating so hard, I was afraid it would vibrate out of my chest. Calm down, I chanted to myself. This is what I had come here for. Just say yes, calm down and -

"Hey," a hand touched my shoulder and I leaned into it, happy for anything solid, "You alright?"

I blinked and looked up and saw Brian, his brow knit with concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I muttered, feeling anything but. I held onto Brian, him being the only thing keeping me standing. My face was burning red, partly because of the near fainting spell and partly because I knew I looked like a total idiot.

"Alec, I swear to God..." Brian said, looking over his shoulder.

"Hey, don't look at me! This is all her!"

Alec held up his hands innocently while Brian fixed a glare at him, but after a moment it was clear that Alec was right. This was all just me.

Bile welled in my stomach and I tried to put a hand to my mouth, but it bounced uselessly against my mask. Stupid.

"Okay, let's just sit down for a moment," Brian said, his deep voice set to a soothing level. He gently guided me down to the floor and I sat with my legs spread flat. "It's okay," said Brian, his hand rubbing circles on my back, "Just breathe."

Breathe. Right. I could do that. I gulped air greedily and something in my body must have gotten the message because the nausea gradually began to fade. Finally, the world seemed to still.

"Sorry," I managed between breaths, "I. Um. I don't know what came over me."

"Yeah," Brian nodded, his voice taking on a more subdued tone, "Don't worry about it."

My eyes were teary and I had to blink through them. The mask still obstructed my face, but this time I was thankful. I had embarrassed myself enough without them thinking I was crying too. I looked up at the other two Undersiders and barely suppressed a wince.

Lisa was staring at me, one hand rubbing her chin. Her smile was gone, instead she was in deep thought, clearly trying to figure out what was wrong with me. Alec on the other hand, had already made up his mind. He was blatantly frowning, his patience run out and now he looked about ready to leave.

My stomach did another flip, but I kept up my breathing and it passed.

"Look," Brian said, "How about we save this conversation for another time, huh?"

My heart sank. I knew what those words meant. I looked at Brian, but his eyes were off in the distance, looking anywhere but at me.

"No," I said, gasping the words out, "That's fine. I'm fine now. I'm good. I'm interested. I mean, I want to be in..." I trailed off.

Brian had finally met my gaze. His face was caught between a smile and a frown, just a tightness in his face.

I could feel my throat closing. There had to be something I could say. I couldn't fuck this up, too. I was a cape now. I was different. I had _changed_. My mouth opened even though I had no idea what I could possibly say.

"Shit!” Lisa shouted, “Incoming!"

Brian reacted instantly. He grabbed me by the shoulders and the two of us catapulted to the side. Where we had been a moment before was now completely covered in opaque white goo. Containment foam. Standard-issue non-lethal armaments of the...

"It's the Protectorate!" Lisa shouted, now sporting a simple black domino mask. It was so puny, she might as well have not even bothered, but maybe it was just something automatic for her. When she vaulted the side of the rooftop it certainly looked like she done it a hundred times before. Did she even know what was below her? Did she just die?

Alec didn’t hesitate for moment, hopping the edge of the roof close behind her and dropped straight out of sight.

"Come quietly and you won’t be hurt!" A voice called out. A voice I knew because I had heard it so many times on the news. Every time there was a big bust or a commendation to be given out, he was there in full regalia. A blue suit of power armor, a halberd as tall as him and a _presence_ that commanded attention. I knew who it was and I still turned to look.

Armsmaster.

He stood atop the neighboring rooftop and was aiming the end of his halberd directly at me.

I dived forward as a stream of containment foam blasted the spot where I had just been. I half-crawled, half-ran for the only spot that even suggested safety. The edge of the roof where Lisa and Alec had jumped off. And Brian too, I guess because I didn't see him at all. He had left me.

Don’t think about it, I told myself, just run. Without even slowing to check, I threw myself over the side of the building.

The building wasn't tall, only two-stories so I could comfort myself with the knowledge that I _probably_ wouldn't die. More likely I would paralyze myself for life. I had expected my life to flash before my eyes but instead all I could think of was of all the grisly ways I would die and how much it would hurt.

Two seconds overboard, I felt the air around me suddenly chill as if I had plunged into a lake. I opened my eyes (when had I closed them?) and saw nothing but darkness. The ground came up shortly after that.

"Oof!" I grunted as the air pushed out of my lungs. Thankfully that was all that came up. No blood, guts or bones. Not that I could see to check, I was deep in the darkness - it was everywhere and as thick as mist, but I could feel that what caught me was nothing more than a mattress. I crawled for the edge, hands groping like a blind man. When I moved to hop down, I mistimed my jump and stumbled.

Correction: Several mattresses.

I pulled myself to my feet, but was no better for it. The darkness still encompassed everything around me. This was a parahuman power. The Undersider's - unless the Protectorate had picked up some new members. I combed my memory from this morning when I had looked them up on the wiki. Darkness generation was… Grue. Brian.

Great, how the fuck did that help me?

"Where are you guys?!" I shouted and immediately regretted it..

Stupid. Idiot, I cursed myself, yelling would just make things easier for Armsmaster. But no foam rained down from above, my voice had sounded weak, almost underwater as if the darkness had swallowed it entirely. Sound nullification as well as darkness generation?

I bit my lip, I couldn't even navigate by sound if I somehow magically developed echolocation. Instead all I had gotten was the power to control _bugs_.

I nearly slapped myself. Right, _my power_. I closed my eyes - no point in the darkness anyways - and reached out to all the bugs in my range. Bad part of town and a back alley? Perfect breeding ground for cockroaches, flies, maggots and so much more. Just this one alley had thousands and I could sense each and every one. Knowing where all the bugs were and where they _weren't_ let me paint a picture in my head. I could figure out where the walls and floor was. Where the wall turned and led out into the street.

Eyes still closed, I ran. I skipped over an overturned trash can and felt the familiar warmth of running fill my lungs. As I ran, I pulled my bugs toward me, forming a small swarm around me to paint my path.

I turned a corner and came out into what _felt_ like a street. It was wide and there was the vague shapes of cars parked at the sides. Thankfully, no traffic. I didn't want to imagine the sort of damage this darkness could cause at rush hour.

As I stood out in the street, my bugs swirling around me in complete darkness, I felt a quiet panic rise in my chest. This was only my second time actually out in costume and I was quickly realizing I had no idea what to do. Avoid Armsmaster had been my primary concern for the last minute or so, but after that, _then what?_

Goals, I thought to myself, think in terms of goals.

What I needed to do was get home without being followed or captured. Somehow or another, I needed to blend in. It was then that I realized that I wasn't carrying anything. Not the lunchbox with all the money and not my backpack with all of my civilian clothes. As if I didn't have a hard enough time fitting in, I had a fucking spider-silk costume, complete with chitinous armor plating and mandibles. There was no way I could ride the bus like this.

Half-baked plans popped up in my brain, but each one was more absurd than the last. There were no clothing stores in this deadbeat part of town. I certainly wasn't going to run around naked. I could _maybe_ find someone and… steal their clothes? But that bothered me for more reasons than I could count.

Besides there weren't even that many people around in this neighborhood. Feeling through the bugs, I could sense only a few people. A decent number of people in the buildings, but most were too out of the way for me. Down on the streets I could sense one person not too far from me huddled on the ground and three more running down an alleyway -

I blinked. It was the Undersiders. I couldn't see their faces, but I recognized the bugs on them. Not that I knew each bug individually, I just _knew_ that these bugs were familiar.

With nothing else to go on, I took off after them. They weren't too far ahead. For all my screw-ups and panicking, I was still a better runner than the _slowest_ one of the Undersiders and that was all that mattered. Maybe Brian could see through the darkness, but I doubted Alec and Lisa could. They had to be led out while I knew exactly where to go.

I followed the three of them to a warehouse out by the water. The building was empty of anyone else save for a good helping of cockroaches. I wasn't sure, but I was pretty confident I could make out the shape of a van. The perfect getaway.

I was nearly across the street when the darkness started to disappear. Black mist turning wispy and I was still out in the open. I picked up the pace. If anyone looked out their window while I was out in the open then Armsmaster would only be a phone call away. I grit my teeth, my feet pounding against the pavement and barreled through the front door, throwing myself inside just as the last of the darkness vanished.

"What the fuck!" Alec yelled.

I tried to get up to answer when a pair of hands grabbed me by the collar of my neck and _yanked_ up. Half-choking I was forced to my feet and before I could get a word in, I was slammed against the wall. My teeth rattled in my skull and I squeezed my eyes open.

Brian's expression was cold. He held me by the throat, not high enough to choke me, but enough to get me using my toes. That was with only one hand, the other was pulled back in a fist primed to go through my head.

"You followed us." It wasn't a question. It was an accusation.

I started to twist away, but Brian only needed to tighten his grip to get me to stop.

"I did," I said, my voice strained, "You guys left me." Brian didn't even flinch. I squeezed my eyes shut, "I needed a way out too, okay?"

"Did you tip off Armsmaster?"

"What," I gasped, "No!"

"Tattletale?" Brian called out, not looking away from me, not even blinking.

"She's telling the truth," Lisa answered, though she didn't look happy about it.

"Are you _sure_?" Brian snarled the word.

"I said it, didn't I?"

"Yeah well, you also said we wouldn't need to gear up for this meet."

"Yeah, I know." Lisa rolled her eyes, "Whatever, it wasn't her fault. She's telling the truth. 95% certainty."

Brian frowned at me. I could feel him calculating whether those 5% odds were good enough or not. Only five minutes earlier he had helped calm me down from a fainting spell. Now he looked about ready to kill me.

He let go and I dropped to my knees, hacking with each breath.

"You are not coming with us," said Brian.

The unfairness of it stung. They blamed me for this.

"We're going to leave. Don't follow us."

I was so close. If I had just said yes a second sooner. It was the only reason I had shown up at all.

Brian turned away and headed toward the van.

"Seeya," Alec gave a mock salute as he followed Brian.

Lisa stepped in front of me and I looked up at her. She had that same ponderous expression on as when I had nearly fainted. Still trying to figure out the freak.

"You guys invited _me_ ,” I said bitterly, “I followed you because I wanted to join."

Lisa stared at me impassively and then in a voice only loud enough for me to hear, she spoke, "The part that gets me confused isn't that Armsmaster showed up. We could've just gotten unlucky with patrols. No, the part gets me is that when he made his first shot, it wasn't you he was aiming for, it was _Brian_. Out-of-costume civilian Brian. Not the girl in a scary bug-themed costume." Lisa's frown deepened. "Armsmaster knew we were the Undersiders."

I stared at her, my mouth hanging open. "I… I don't know why. Someone else must have -"

"Tattletale!" Brian yelled from the driver's seat of the van.

Lisa turned away. "Yeah, I'm coming," she replied.

The Undersiders piled into the van and without another word to me, left.

* * *

By the time I had made it home it was well past midnight. I had eventually taken the bus, but only after painstakingly smuggling clothes from a nearby home with my bugs. Finding suitable clothes that would fit over my costume - which I had not been willing to throw away - had been the hard. Getting it to me without anyone noticing was harder.

I had managed it however. No Armsmaster. No legion of PRT. No other Protectorate or Wards or anything else. Just an overwhelming amount of shame.

With how the day went - Emma cornering me at school, me skipping, the _disaster_ of my meeting - I had half-expected my dad to be up waiting for me. Thankfully that was one encounter I managed to avoid. I made it up to my room uncontested and once the door was locked, stripped myself clean of my costume. Piled on the floor, the costume looked as stupid as I felt.

I dropped face-first into bed, ready to pass out. I didn't really want tomorrow to come, I just wanted today to end. I closed my eyes and started to drift off.

Something rubbed against my skin, rough and uneven. Annoyed, I grabbed at it to see what it was. I took one look before I jumped out of bed, any notion of sleep forgotten.

I scrambled to my desk, finding the switch to my lamp and held the object under. It was a note. A little crumpled from where I laid atop it, but the words were clear enough and when I read them, by blood ran cold.

_You can do so much better than the Undersiders._

I stared at the note, reading and rereading it over and over again. It was printed in an ordinary font on plain white paper. Nothing at all to distinguish it in anyway. I turned the paper over and saw two letters. Initials. It would have been completely anonymous if it weren’t that.

_YT_

I set the note down and sat on the edge of my bed.

Who the hell was YT?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm breaking a few of my personal rules with this story. It's Taylor-centric, written in first person, some of the opening dialogue is straight from Worm canon and the central conceit of the story isn't immediately obvious. I don't want to say too much about that because that would give away the mystery. I don't think there are a lot of mysteries in Worm fics so I'd like to see how this turns out.
> 
> Anyways, I expect the length of this story to be somewhere between One-Sided Rival and Nine Last Chances. Any feedback is greatly appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

I woke up feeling not even the slightest bit rested. There was no helping it, I couldn’t even remember falling asleep, I had spent last night poring over the note again and again as if I could glean some hidden meaning to the initials if I just read them one more time.

YT. What did those letters mean? Ideas tumbled in my head at random as I made my way to the bathroom to clean up. They had to stand for something, a company acronym or someone’s initials. The problem was I didn’t know anyone or anything with those initials. I mean, I didn’t really know that many people to begin with, but of everyone I had _ever_ met, I don’t think I even knew anyone with a name that started with Y.

Yorick, maybe? Was my stalker a Shakespeare fan?

I stopped brushing my teeth, feeling dirty at the thought of a _stalker_. That wasn’t the sort of thing someone like me should have. If anyone would have a stalker it would be…

“Emma,” I muttered through a mouthful of toothpaste. I spat and leaned over the sink as a scenario began to form in my mind. Was this the latest in fuckery from Emma? Invade my home, leave creepy notes and cackle as I freak out? It seemed extreme, almost insane, but then so was everything else she had done to me.

I stepped into the shower and sighed as the heat washed over me. The steady patter of the water was enough for my head to clear up a little.

No, it couldn’t have been Emma. Or at least, I didn’t think so. YT had known about the Undersiders. And while I wasn’t ruling out that my secret identity had already been compromised two days after my first outing as a cape, Emma couldn’t possibly have known about the meeting.

I remembered what Lisa had said to me yesterday. Armsmaster had _known_ about the Undersiders. He had targeted Brian, not me. Somehow Armsmaster had learned about the meeting. In the small space of time between our messages at the library and our meeting - less than four hours - Armsmaster had gotten tipped off.

Had it been the library? Were they monitoring my messages? But even then, our messages had been ambiguous enough that I was confident no librarian or even PRT agent could have figured out their meaning.

I stepped out of the shower, cleaner, but my mood worse. The more I thought about it, the less it made sense. The only scenarios that seemed remotely possible was that the Undersiders had ratted _themselves_ out. They had been missing a member at our meet, but why bother? What was the point? There were better ways of getting rid of your teammates and for the rest of them, they had done nothing but piss off Armsmaster, alienate me and lose two thousand dollars.

More than that, it didn’t feel like their M.O. The Undersiders were small-time crooks. Robbers, thieves, certainly not _good_ people, but they didn’t seem the violent type - at least not in the way of the ABB or Empire Eighty-Eight were.

That left only one thing: the unknown. Someone I didn’t even know. A _stranger_ following me. And not just any old stalker, but a parahuman stalker. One that could go invisible and follow me, watch me.

I clutched a towel to my chest, the bathroom suddenly feeling a lot less secure. I stretched my arms out in front of me as casually as I could and less casually rotated 360 degrees.

Nothing.

There was maybe a breeze, but it was close to my feet so it had to be from the gap between the door and floor. It was just the difference in temperature between the steamy bathroom and the cool hallway.

All the same, I wasted no time putting on my clothes.

I exited the bathroom, firmly shutting the door behind me. I was being paranoid, I knew. But finding an ominous note on your bed would do that to you. I focused on my breathing, steadying myself with the gentle mantra of in and out, in and out.

I smelled of bacon.

Breakfast would do _wonders_ for me. I headed downstairs and saw my dad at the stove.

“Morning sleepyhead,” my dad said, “Breakfast will be ready in a few. Bacon and biscuits, okay?”

“Bacon and biscuits sounds _fantastic_ ,” I said as I sat at the table.

He smiled and flipped over a piece of bacon. “Heh, thought you might like it. How much you want?”

My stomach spoke up with a grumble and my cheeks went red. “I think I’m pretty hungry.”

“Got you covered.” He piled food onto a plate and wasn’t shy about it either. The smell was hypnotic and I could hear the sizzle of fat off the just-cooked bacon. “Here you go,” he said as he put the plate before me.

I didn’t waste a second, weathering burned fingertips to get at the bacon.

My dad smiled, watching me eat.

“Mmm,” I swallowed, “Aren’t you going to eat?”

“Don’t worry about me,” said my dad, waving me off, “I had some already. Enjoy your meal, it’s the least I can do.”

I blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, y’know. It’s my fault we missed dinner together. Just wanted to make it up to you.”

I set the bacon down, my appetite suddenly gone. I had been hiding at the warehouse until midnight. I was the one who missed dinner.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

His smile was gone. He had picked up on my change of mood.

“Is something wrong, Taylor?”

“Please dad. Just tell me what happened yesterday?”

He stared at me for a long moment, maybe expecting me to explain more, but there was no way I could do that.

“Alright,” he said with a sigh, “I came back home a little early yesterday, it’s been real busy at the office these past few days so I figured I could do with a break. I watched some TV and I must have been more tired than I thought because next thing I know it’s morning and I’m in bed.” He looked at me, “I was thinking that I had dozed off and you had gotten me to bed somehow.”

There was a tightness in my jaw. My teeth were welded to one another.

Stiffly, I nodded. “Yeah, dad. You were pretty drowsy, but I helped you to your bed. It’s no big deal, really.” I forced a smile, “Nothing to make up for.”

“Okay...” he murmured, more focused on staring at me, trying to pick me apart the way only a parent could.

“Anyways, thanks dad!” I said abruptly as I stood up, “But I’m gonna start my run now. Don’t want to miss out before school starts.”

“Taylor…” he started to say, but I quickly made for the stairs.

I burst into my room and began pulling on my running clothes purely by routine. My head was in another dimension entirely.

 _My dad_. As if breaking into my home wasn’t enough, _they had fucked with my dad_. I was boiling, it was almost the same feeling as a fainting spell. My head was dangerously light, empty, except for one major exception: Rage. Blind murderous rage. The heat vibrated between my ears, buzzing incessantly.

I looked up and saw that sound wasn’t just in my ears. It was the bugs. A massive swarm had gathered in the center of the ceiling. Pushing and pulling against the walls like an ocean caught in a storm.

I forced myself to breathe, to relax but I didn’t let go of the rage, I stored it. Pushing it deep inside where it could fuel me. Gradually the bugs quieted down and pulled away, disappearing into cracks in the walls.

I picked up my bookbag and put an extra change of clothes inside. The note went in as well - I was tempted to rip it up - but as of now it was my only clue. Last, was my costume. I had a feeling I would need it.

All the fear and apprehension from this morning had evaporated. Whoever this YT was, if their intention had been to scare me then they had failed. Now I was pissed.

\---

I stared at the computer screen, the anger still burning inside me, but with _a lot_ less direction. Okay, I knew I had some sort of crazy stalker, but how exactly did I combat that? I had already scanned the area around me with my bugs and I could pick up the vague presence of everyone at the library (seventeen), but it didn’t really feel like any of them were following me. I still wasn’t a 100% on keeping track of which bugs were which, but none of them _felt_ familiar. Not in the way the bugs on the Undersiders had.

So I was left to stew at the library, staring at a blinking cursor, wondering how I could phrase this message to “Tt” without sounding like a total idiot.

>   
> **Subject:** Re:Bug
> 
> Bug here. Look, I’m sorry about yesterday. It wasn’t my fault, if you

At the end of the day, I still had no idea what I was doing. Being a cape seemed so much easier when you read about it in the papers or saw it on TV. The heroes always knew what to do, where to go and who to beat. Investigating was the sort of stuff you saw in the montages, flickering stills of capes poring through files until the clues magically came together. Turns out the movies had skipped out on the fact that investigating was actually _hard_.

I pressed the delete key until the text box was empty.

I needed answers, more than I needed my pride, but somehow I didn’t think Lisa would be impressed with groveling. Our meeting had gone to hell, but it wasn’t my fault and I couldn’t act like it was. Why should I apologize to them? They were the ones who had set up the meeting not me.

Then again, the Undersiders were literally my only contact with the cape world. Unless you counted my encounter with Lung, but I certainly wasn’t going to go to _him_ for help. That was a face I could do without ever seeing again. I turned back to the keyboard.

>   
> **Subject:** Re:Bug
> 
> We need to talk. It’s about yesterday.

Simple, concise, professional, and a number of other positive adjectives. Point was, it was good enough. I had already wasted too much time without getting anything done.

I hit send.

I sat back in the chair and sighed. Of course, there was no guarantee Lisa would even reply. For all I knew she had run a full purge, deleted her account, trashed her computer and washed her hands with bleach. If that was the case then I really was shit out of luck. I wasn’t sure how long I could keep up this looking-over-the-shoulder routine. Besides the exhaustion factor, my dad was already suspicious of me, there was no way I could protect him without having to tell him everything.

While I was fairly sure that with my bugs I could sense if someone was following me, I wasn’t _certain_. And if my stalker was just watching from really far away then they could pull the same shit on me as yesterday, tipping the Protectorate off whenever they pleased. No, I needed to resolve this as quickly as possible. So long as this YT was out there, I was in danger. _My dad was in danger_.

I refreshed the page.

I had a new message. Not from Tt. It was a different account, RUFingSerious. I winced at the name, but opened the message anyways.

>   
> **Subject:** Yesterday
> 
> Read my name.

Well, she had responded. That was something. I started with my reply, not bothering to proofread it as thoroughly as my first message.

>   
> **Subject:** Re:Yesterday
> 
> Look, I was just as surprised as you, but I think I figured out why AM knew about you guys. Can we meet?

I sent the message and waited.

And waited some more.

The library clock was positioned above my head, so close I could hear the seconds ticking by. With every moment that passed, I could feel the anger rising up again.

Was that it? One parting insult before she left me out to dry? The Undersiders had no reason to screw me over, but then I didn’t really know them did I? Maybe this was some sick game they played with the new cape on the block. They had the resources, they had the knowledge and they even had one member unaccounted for. Perfect opportunity for one of them to slip into my home while I was away, drug my father and leave that condescending note.

There didn’t _have_ to be a reason to it. I knew all too well how senseless people could be with their cruelty.

My hands curled into fists, the nails digging into flesh and it hurt, but that was good. I wanted to hurt someone. Everything was just so unreasonably _unfair_. It was as if the world itself had made it its mission to sabotage me every step of the way. My mom, Emma and now the Undersiders. I pulled my hands off the keyboard and bit down on my knuckle. My jaw closed tighter and tighter until I could taste blood between my lips.

YT.

No matter if it was one person or a whole group, the Undersiders or anyone else. For YT, I would keep the worst of the worst. The black widows, the brown recluses, and every little monster that haunted an arachnophobe’s worst nightmare. I’d do to YT a million times worse than what I had done to Lung. I’d draw it out, stuff every opening in their body until nothing but hairy legs stuck out and _then_ I would have the spiders actually bite, pump venom into -

A light appeared at the top of my screen. I had a new message.

>   
> **Subject:** Re:Yesterday
> 
> Boardwalk. Fendi.

Fendi was a clothing store on the boardwalk. Expensive stuff, expensive enough I had never actually been in there. Emma had talked about it in the dreamy sort of way she normally reserved for boys. Still, I knew where it was.

There hadn’t been a time specified, but I was pretty sure I knew what that meant.

I took a moment to breath, venting the heat that had built up until there was nothing left but cool purpose. Information. I needed information first. Information, direction and then action.

I released my fist from my jaw, mindful of the blood. I would have to get that cleaned up first. It wouldn't take long.

Methodically, I cleared the computer’s browser history, picked up my bookbag and left.


	3. Chapter 3

Entering Fendi wasn't just a physical process, but a mental and emotional one as well. More than just clothes with way too many zeros on the tag, Fendi had a mix of lights, purple lens aimed upwards and clear ones aimed down. You wouldn’t have any difficulty comparing colors when you looked in the mirror, but look up and you were treated to an overly romantic version of the Brockton Bay skyline at dusk.

All of Fendi oozed with unnecessary style, the mannequins posed like runway models and perfume hung in the air smelling of cinnamon and holly. It wasn't an offensive smell, certainly not like some of the overpowering stuff the more desperate girls at high school wore, but it was a constant reminder of how just out place I was.

And I was so very out of place. There were only a few customers in at this time and they all looked like they had come straight out of Breakfast at Tiffany's, sleek dresses with perfectly fitted jackets. One of them even had the gloves that stretched past her elbows. In contrast, I wore a baggy grey hoodie and sweatpants. They were the only clothes that could hide my costume since there was no way I _wasn't_ wearing it. As for covering my face there wasn't anything I could do without drawing attention to myself, so I had come unmasked.

I had no doubt that little fact had been intentional on Lisa's part. I had already seen their faces and gotten their first names, so I guess this made things a little more even. And worst case scenario if Lisa or the Undersiders really were YT than my secret identity was already compromised and the point was moot.

Still, I missed the mask. The lens would have helped with this strange and unfamiliar world. I moved to a rack of clothes as if I actually cared about fashion while I kept an eye out for a blonde, freckled girl with green eyes.

As I was looking around, I caught one of the sales reps glaring daggers at me. She only needed one look to know I didn't belong.

I ducked my head down and moved further into the clothes, putting a rack of oversized coats between me and the sales rep. It wasn't much of a cover, sooner or later the woman would come over and try to kick me out. When that didn't work - and it wouldn't - she would call the boardwalk's "private security". Hired muscle that was meant to ward off the numerous gang elements from the nicer parts of town, but more often than not they just beat up whoever didn't look the part.

In other words, me.

I wasn't afraid of getting into a fight. A part of me still _wanted_ a fight. I just couldn't have that kind of attention right now. This meeting needed to happen. This was my only lead.

Over the top of a coat I spotted the sales rep walking towards me. She had pinpointed my location and was now power-walking at me with all the force of a heat-seeking missile.

I walked in the opposite direction and started reaching out to my bugs. As always there was more than you would expect. Ants below the floorboards, spiders taking up space between walls, and even here there were cockroaches. I'm sure they would like the cockroaches.

The woman was closing in, she knew her way around the store better than me and she had me cornered. To my left were jeans that looked like tights and to my right were tights that looked like paint. Not much cover and no other way around.

I swallowed the lightheadedness that threatened to take over and drew on the anger still in my gut. I would not faint. I _refused_ to faint. This woman didn't know what she was getting into. The bugs surged beneath the spotless floor, just waiting to be called upon. If she even so much as pushed me, I would -

_BRRING BRRING_

A phone. It was close, too.

I looked around, my head whirling. There was no one near me. I didn't have a cellphone either, never had. Which meant...

_BRRING BRRING_

I moved toward the ringing. It was between me and the sales rep. Among the clothes. A pair of jeans, I locked onto it.

My gaze was fixed, avoiding all eye contact. I came to the pair of jeans and started to dig through the pockets.

Wrong one. I moved to another pair of jeans.

"Excuse me." The sales rep spoke up, she was just behind me, " _Miss?_ "

_BRRING BRRING_

I ignored her and continued digging.

" _Miss_ ," the word dripped with acid, "I think you may be in the wrong place."

My hand bumped against something hard and smooth. I pulled the jeans off the rack and held it up like a shield.

"What do you think of this one?" I asked as if this was the first time I had seen her.

She gave me a real lip-pulling, teeth-baring sneer. "It's a little out of your price range." She waved a hand regarding the store. " _This_ is out of your range."

I slipped the phone out of the jeans while she was distracted and mashed my fingers against the surface until they finally managed to land on the answer button. My hands were slick with sweat as I put the phone to my ear.

“I’m here,” I said.

A quiet chuckle. Lisa.

"Tell the nice lady you understand and you'll go now," Lisa said, her smile coming through the phone, "Tell her you're sorry and -"

"Wha-"

"Excuse me," the sales rep took a step closer, "I was talking to you, you brat."

"Don't make me repeat myself, Bug. Do it."

I pulled the phone away from my ear and resisted the urge to smash it against the ground. I looked at the sales rep, her lips were pushed together in what might have been intimidating to a three year old. I resisted the urge to slam the phone in her face as well.

"I'm sorry," I said, veins popping along my neck, "I understand, I'll be leaving now."

"Good," she smirked, "Hurry up."

I pushed past her and put the phone back to my ear.

"Enjoying yourself?" I asked, my voice still tight.

"Grow up, Bug. You were self-destructing, you needed the help."

I walked out of the store and nearly gasped as the cold air washed over me. My skin tingled as the chill sank in. I wiped at my brow and came back with a puddle on the back of my hand. I was drenched in sweat.

"Social anxiety, huh? That must suck," Lisa said unconvincingly, "I'll give you props for the sleight of hand, that was some quick-thinking. Of course, if it was anyone other than that bimbo who confronted you, they probably would have noticed that the phone wasn't yours. So half-credit."

The anger was back, but again (again and again) there was no target. I craned my head trying to find Lisa, but the boardwalk had just started to get busy. Rich socialites out for the first purchase of the day. Lisa was nowhere to be seen.

“Where are you?” I asked.

“Don’t worry about that I’m keeping an eye on you. Fun fact, the camera really does add ten pounds.”

I glanced around, this time trying to find a security camera. There were plenty. Anonymous black bulbs hung over every lamppost. The boardwalk took their security seriously.

I began walking away, uncomfortable under the electronic stare. "You were watching me the whole time?"

"Of course, I'm watching you right now. You're really red by the way."

I bit my lip and focused on my bugs. My range had extended. Five, maybe six city blocks. If she was that close - though she didn’t need to be - I could check every building easily. But what was there to look for? A teenage girl on her cellphone? That didn't even begin to narrow it down. All I could sense with my bugs was where they were, anything more than that just gave me a headache. Kind of like this conversation.

"You _are_ enjoying yourself, aren't you?" I said bitterly.

"A little. I'm just making sure that this little chat of ours isn't a total waste of time."

"I thought you said you believed me. That I didn't tip off Armsmaster?"

"Mmm, yeah, but that doesn't mean you're not blameless. Maybe Armsmaster has a tracking device on you. Or maybe you tipped off Empire Eighty-Eight, but it leaked to the Protectorate. Or even maybe your boyfriend is a Ward and you let something slip. There are a lot of possibilities and a lot of reasons not to trust you."

"You're being ridiculous."

"Yeah, you're right, I don't think anyone on the Wards has standards that low."

There was a crack next to my ear and I flinched. It was the phone, a hairline fracture had appeared, running across the screen from top to bottom. Very deliberately, I relaxed my grip.

“You’re supposed to be a super lie detector, right?” I asked.

“Something like that.”

“Then listen to this: You, the Undersiders and Lung are the only capes I’ve ever met. I didn’t tell _anyone_ about our meeting.”

Lisa didn’t miss a beat. “Sure, let’s say I believe you. So what? There’s still _so many possibilities_. The safe bet is to have nothing to do with you.”

“And yet, you’re talking to me right now.”

“Well, the safe bet isn’t always the most fun. And besides, you got me curious. So tell me what you wanted to talk about.”

“Alright fine.” I took a deep breath, thinking over everything that needed to be said. "I don't know why Armsmaster showed up yesterday. All I know is that when I got home, I found a note in my bed. It said that I was too good for the Undersiders - " Lisa snorted, but I ignored her, "And on the other side were the initials YT. Does. That. Mean. _Anything_. To you."

"Nope."

I closed my eyes, massaging my brow with my fingertips, "Cape names? Villains? Heroes? Teams? Somebody's _real_ name? Is there anyone on your team with any relation to YT?"

"Nope for the last question, don't really know about the other ones. I think there might be a cape named Yellowtail or something."

This was getting nowhere. I walked to the edge of the boardwalk and leaned on the railing that overlooked the beach. It was too beautiful for such a horrible day. The sun hung high in the sky without a cloud to block it and the sand glowed a brilliant white in response. It was still a little too chilly for most to be swimming so that left the beach unmarred of any mess or gaudy ornaments.

"Look," I said quietly, "This person. This YT. They unmasked you to Armsmaster. They know about _you_. Don't you want find out who they are?"

"Oh, that's clever. Challenging my ego like that."

I sighed, "That's not how I meant it. What I'm saying is that we have a mutual interest in finding out who ratted us out. Whoever this YT is, they are dangerous. They broke into my home. They _drugged my dad_." My voice caught, but I forced my way through it. "Then they carried him to bed and tucked him in."

The line was silent. No smart quip, no sarcastic insult.

Did I have her attention? Did she realize what the fuck we were dealing with?

I went on. "The only clue I have right now is this note. I have it on me, but I can't use it. I don't know the first thing about forensics aside from what they show on TV. I can't go to the police or the Protectorate. I know you don't owe me anything, but if not for me then for you and the Undersiders, help me find YT."

There was still no response. I looked at the phone.

The line was dead. She had hung up.

The rage welled inside me, coming out as a primal growl as I pulled back with the phone, ready to dash it against the ground.

Something latched onto my wrist and stopped me more by the shock than any strength behind it. It was a hand.

I looked over and saw a brown-haired teenage girl wearing a slick black dress, gloves that stretched past her elbows and a jacket that hugged her middle. Her eyes were hidden by a large pair of sunglasses, but the smirk beneath was unmistakable.

"No need to get so emotional," Lisa said lightly. She let go of my hand and held out her own. “The note, please.”

I immediately tore through my bookbag, not wanting to give her even a moment to change her mind. Finally, I yanked the note out of my bookbag and then much more gently, handed it over.

"Keep the phone," she said softly as she fit the note neatly into a purse, "We'll talk soon."

"Thanks," I mumbled.

Her smirk twitched. "Don't mention it. Really, don't. Not to anyone."

Before I could ask why, she was already walking away. She headed for the crowds and she blended in perfectly with the well-dressed and well-off. A crowd of giggling women passed and I lost sight of her.

But I didn’t need to see her. Not anymore at least. I closed my eyes and focused.

Deep in the pocket of Lisa’s jacket was a fly that was - against all its instincts - burying itself deeper into the cloth. I had snuck it inside the moment Lisa had revealed herself. I pushed it deeper into the pocket, working its tiny limbs until both legs and wings were trapped between threads. The jacket jostled with each step, but the fly was secure now. It couldn’t fly away even if it exited my range.

I waited a few more moments, letting the distance build up. I didn’t want to make any mistakes after all, I had never tailed someone before.


	4. Chapter 4

I was pretty sure Lisa had nothing to do with YT. But I wasn't the walking lie detector, she was.

I followed Lisa, careful to always keep a building between us. Lie detector or not, if she couldn't see me then her power wouldn't affect me. Or at least that was my working assumption. Lisa had shown up in person to the boardwalk when she had never needed to. Why? Was it simply because she liked taking the risk? Or was it because that was what her power needed?

It had to be proximity or line-of-sight. So long as I kept my distance and stayed hidden, I would be fine. Or at least that's what I told myself.

Lisa turned the corner and went into a large concrete building. She was walking deep into the heart of the structure and by the time I caught up to see what it really was, she had stopped near the center.

A parking complex.

Shit. I couldn’t follow her in there, not without being completely obvious. I immediately turned the other way and hurried into an open store. A book store, which would have been lovely under normal circumstances, but I didn't have time to peruse the wares. I hid behind a bookshelf as I concentrated on the fly in Lisa's pocket.

The jacket was completely still, no longer being jostled with each step, not even stirring with the gentle rise and fall of Lisa's breathing. She had taken the jacket off.

Tremors suddenly appeared, sending vibrations through the jacket to the incredibly confused fly. Being an actual person, I knew better. That was a car engine starting up.

Shit, shit, shit. Of course, Lisa would have a car. There was no way someone dressed that nice would be getting around town on the public bus. My max range had decreased as I calmed down, I was back at my limit of only three blocks. There was no way I'd be able to keep up with her on foot.

I could feel the fly lurching as the car began to move. It took a turn and in only a few more seconds, it'd be out of the complex.

Heedless of the risk, I burst out of the bookstore and started running, my bookbag bouncing against my back. I wasn't sure what I was running to, but I needed to figure something out.

I couldn’t drive a car, hadn’t even taken lessons yet. In fact, the only vehicle I actually knew how to ride besides the public bus was a bike, but just my luck, there was none around.

The car was coming to the exit, taking its time as it overcame a speed bump. After that would be the toll booths. In total it would take maybe 30 seconds before the car exited the complex and I was still half a block away with no plan at all.

I looked over my shoulder, hoping against all reason that there would be a taxi just waiting to be used, but I just couldn’t get a break. At this rate, I would be left with simply running after the damn car. Even with the daily runs I’ve been doing these past few weeks, there was no way I could keep up with a car.

Lisa was stopped at the toll booth. I had run out of time. I threw myself into an alley and crouched behind a dumpster.

The car pulled out of the complex, took a right turn and stopped at a red light.

I bolted out of the alleyway like a horse at the races. This wasn’t a long-term strategy. This was desperation. I could maybe catch up if Lisa drove like a grandma and stopped at every traffic light. It was a non-zero chance, I thought trying to cheer myself up.

Ahead of me, a group of middle-aged men in suits stepped out of a hotel and filled the sidewalk. They were absorbed in a story that the man leading their group was telling. They were totally oblivious to me and I wasn’t going to slow down to wait for them to notice.

I forced my way through, bumping shoulders, zigging and zagging until I emerged on the other side. I could hear some disgruntled cries as I pulled away, but I ignored them, my focus was on the shrinking image of Lisa's car.

The light had turned green and Lisa was driving away, already at the next light. She wasn’t even speeding, there just wasn’t that much traffic at this time.

I stopped running and set my focus on the fly. I just needed to retain its position in my mind. My range was usually only 3 blocks and Lisa was already at the limit of that, but if I could harness my extended range - my record of 6 blocks - I might be able to catch her at a red light again.

Focus. I squeezed my eyes shut, blocking everything else out. Focus on the fly. The fly twitched in its cloth trap. It was afraid, but not in the way we normally understood fear. Where there was movement, the fly would react by pulling way. Trapped under the jacket and jostled with each bump in the road, the fly desperately wanted to live up to its name. That was just the way it was made.

Survive, eat and mate. Those were its only concerns with life. The most basic thought process imaginable, I was almost envious of how carefree it was. The fly's feeble brain couldn't even comprehend the concept of "anxiety". There was only "approach" or "avoid" with nothing in between. But those were such broad abstractions that if I could just...

The fly disappeared. It had left my range. Lisa's car was gone and I had no idea where.

I put my face in my hands.

It was not the end of the world, I told myself. The Undersiders probably had nothing to do with YT, anyways. I still had the phone Lisa had given me, if she found anything surely she would let me know?

I swallowed, the back of my throat aching with an uncomfortable dryness. I had followed Lisa precisely because I didn't trust her. Not only had I given her my only clue, but now any information I got from her would only be whatever she deigned to gift me. I was at her mercy.

"Hey, kid, you alright?"

I looked up from my hands and saw a young man in a grey business suit - I had bumped into him just a few seconds ago. He stood by me, a hand on my shoulder, blue eyes wide with concern. He was well-built, but baby-faced compared to some of his other colleagues who I could see were watching us with barely contained interest.

"Do you need to sit down or anything? Have a drink?" The young man asked.

My face was heating up. He had no idea what was going on. I was just some random idiot girl who had barged through his group only to self-combust on the other side. Now he was talking to me like I was a five year old.

I opened my mouth to explain, to wave him off, to get him to leave me alone, but instead all that came out was, "Ahm ein."

Nonsense, fucking baby sounds. I felt myself turning beet red.

His stare turned from concern to confusion. The hand on my back lifted a little. I could feel the revulsion. He was realizing he must have bumped into some sort of retard or psycho or retard psycho.

He wasn't wrong.

My vision began to dim and I could feel my knees trembling. I knew what was happening, but there was nothing I could do to stop it.

The world turned over and went dark.

* * *

There was nothing quite so unsettling as waking up beneath an unfamiliar roof. It activated the most lizard part of our brains that screamed “something is wrong”.

As I woke to a strange ceiling, I bolted upright. I was in a bed, large with clean white sheets. Directly in front of me was a TV, to my left was a curtained off window and to my right were two doors. It didn't take much for me to recognize the spartan use of space and surreal cleanliness: I was in a hotel room.

The realization filled me with a wild fear.

I clutched at my clothes and let out a sigh of relief as I found they were all there. Even my costume was still firmly beneath my hoodie.

I pulled myself out of bed and as I did a patch of white slipped from between the folds and fell to the ground. A note.

I stared at it, frozen in place. One leg was still stretched out on the bed. Had YT found me? They wouldn't have needed any drugs or anything, I had already done that part for them.

Slowly, I finished getting out of the bed, half-expecting to bump into an invisible form. I picked up the note with just two of my fingers and brought it to the desk near the TV. The note was folded like a holiday card, but there was no cheery Hallmark greeting on the front. It was blank white.

Carefully, as if I was defusing a bomb, I peeled the note open.

_Hey,_  
Sorry about bumping into you.  
Hope I didn't shake you up too bad.  
Anyways, go ahead and use the room.  
Feel better and sorry again. 

Also inside the note was the room keycard. I set it aside and turned the note over, but there was nothing else. No post-script, no signature, no YT.

I sat down at the desk and took a deep breath. There was a part of me that wanted to believe the note. Believe that out there was a stranger kind enough to help an unconscious girl who wouldn’t ask for anything in return. A stranger so thoughtful that they would pay for a nice hotel just to care for me. A stranger so selfless they wouldn’t even leave behind a name so I could thank them. I so desperately wanted to believe that a person that good could really exist.

In front of me was a small electronic clock. It read 3:37 PM. I had been out for nearly 4 hours.

I wasn't a doctor, but I knew a thing or two about fainting. There was no way it should have lasted more than a few minutes.

I picked up the note and read it again. It was handwritten, the words tight and blocky. I tried to remember the young man who had approached me. He had been classically handsome with a square jaw and solid build, but only barely a man. Like the high school quarterback heading off to college.

Was he YT?

This was what paranoia was, wasn't it? Anyone who even came close to you immediately regarded with suspicion. The belief that everyone and everything was out to get you.

I stood up, taking the note and keycard with me. On the other hand, it wasn't really paranoia when I knew for a fact that someone _was_ out to get me.

I found my bookbag and opened it. My clothes were still in there.

And so was my mask.

Right.

Of course.

No wonder he didn't want to sign the fucking note. No wonder he was so nice about everything. I guess I should have been glad he didn't turn me over to the Protectorate.

I put the note and card away and picked up my bag. He may not have turned me in, but at the same time, I wasn't going to wait around and push my luck.

The hotel wasn't busy around this time. I didn't have to wait long for the elevator and when I came out into the lobby there was only a single receptionist at the desk.

She smiled at the sight of me as if I was some long-lost family member and I pretended not to notice, suddenly fascinated with the lobby's design. For its part, the lobby was modestly decorated and had homely feel to it, intended more for the travel-weary businessman than the eager out-of-country tourists.

I walked through lobby, looking to the left (away from the receptionist), examining the detail in a portrait of a hunting dog. I was halfway through when I spotted something in the corner of the ceiling. A small bubble of black-tinted glass.

I stopped, staring at the dark surface. Positioned where it was, it would have clear line of sight of the front door.

I still couldn't remember very well the young man who had helped me. But at the same time, I was confident that if I saw him again I'd be able to recognize him. Was it rude to pry so deeply into someone who by all accounts had done nothing but help me?

Well, I could live with being rude.

I turned around and walked towards the receptionist. Now was the hard part.

"Good afternoon, can I help you with anything, miss?" The receptionist smiled at me, her teeth as spotless as her uniform. Everything about her was clean, and I was shamefully aware of my mottled grey hoodie. I felt dirty just standing before her.

"Yes," I said, forcing my voice to remain level, "I had a question. Regarding your security."

Her smile faltered and she looked at me quizzically.

I swallowed, pushing back the darkness that threatened the periphery of my awareness.

"The hotel's security I mean,” I added hastily, “I have a question about the hotel's safety?"

"Oh," the receptionist brightened up, "Of course, miss, the Bay Inn is extremely safe. You have nothing to worry about."

"Okay, that's great. Really great," I replied.

She stared at me and I stared back. The silence stretched on and I realized I hadn't actually said anything that would have continued the conversation.

"Is -"

"Wha -"

We both stopped, our words having overlapped.

The receptionist gave a polite giggle, "Please, go ahead."

She seemed cheerful. Totally nonchalant about my bumbling. Not staring at me like I was a freak.

I closed my eyes and breathed. I could do this. She was nice. I wouldn’t faint. I just needed to breathe.

I opened my eyes and she smiled patiently at me.

Without any preamble, I pointed in the direction of the camera. "Does that camera work?"

"That?" She blinked for a moment, "I believe so."

"And how long do the recordings last?"

"Uh, well..."

Her eyes shifted to the side. She knew, but she also knew that she shouldn't say.

I leaned forward on the desk, closing the distance between us. As I did, I could see a computer monitor behind the desk, its screen was split in four, camera feeds alternating in each square.

"Look," I said, my voice a whisper. I glanced at the nametag on her chest. "Janet. I have a problem."

She stared at me wide-eyed. "Problem?"

"Someone is _stalking_ me."

Her eyes went even wider.

"I never thought that I would have a stalker. But I do. Janet, I need your help."

She frowned, but didn't pull away. "Maybe I should get my manager..."

"Please don't," I said, "I think... I think my stalker has a connection to this hotel."

This time she flinched, she looked at me utterly bewildered. I could see the denial in her face.

"Please, Janet, just hear me out." She frowned, but didn't cut in so I went on. "I woke up in one of the rooms upstairs, but I don't remember coming here. At all."

Janet looked down at the desk. "That’s terrible, but I’m not sure what I can do..."

I could feel her pulling away. She was shutting me out.

"You can help me, Janet,” I said, leaning even closer, “I don’t know what happened to me while I was out.”

Janet said nothing as she fidgeted with her hands, locking and unlocking fingers together.

She looked up and I met her eyes.

“You think he brought you here?” She asked, more for herself than me.

I nodded. “I just need to check the front door camera feed. Sometime maybe four hours ago?”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it, I promise.”

Janet glanced over my shoulder, but the lobby was still as empty as it had been when I first came in. Satisfied, she waved me over and I hurried to the computer.

Although I had never touched a security system before, the program managing the camera feeds was simple. In the menubar was a button “Playback”. I selected it and a dropdown appeared with a list of cameras. I clicked on FRNT-01.

The four squares of the alternating camera feeds disappeared from the screen and were replaced with a single black one. To the right was a film strip of still images with dates at the bottom, I clicked on today’s date. The video immediately began playing, an empty lobby, darkness outside, a single receptionist and a time code that read 00:00:12. I skipped ahead until I got to 11:30:00. The approximate time I had fainted.

The lobby was busier at this time, but not overwhelmingly. Two men sat at the couch beneath the dog painting in the midst of a conversation. The receptionist desk was manned by two people, a woman and a man, they too were filling time with smalltalk. Seconds passed with nothing.

I hit the fast-forward button and the people began to move jerkily, subtle head movements becoming erratic twitches. People flashed in and out of screen, appearing at the front door one moment and disappearing the next. A trio of serious-looking men. A lone woman with a large suitcase. A large group of businessmen. A young man holding onto a girl.

I stopped fast-forwarding and let the video play out at normal speed. The young man had thrown the girl’s arm over his shoulder, supporting her like she was an injured soldier. She wasn’t completely unconscious, but she was swaying on her feet as if she was drunk. They made their way into the lobby at a glacial pace and at the midpoint when they were at the center of the screen, I paused the video.

The video quality wasn't the greatest, but the image was clear enough to make out that the young man was _handsome_. He still looked very much a teenager, but with his dark hair, broad shoulders and bright blue eyes, he had no doubt been popular in high school. In fact, I had a hard time with the idea of him ever _not_ being popular. He looked like a president in the making.

I looked over my shoulder to Janet who had been watching intently. She had a hand over her mouth and her eyes were as wide as saucers.

I pointed to the screen - at the man and I asked Janet, “Who is this? Who’s carrying me?”

She shook her head in disbelief. “There has to be some kind of mistake. There’s no way he would do something like that.”

“ _Janet_ ,” I said forcefully and she jumped a little. She looked to me, clearly terrified. “Tell me who this is.”

She swallowed and looked back to the man. “That’s Rory Christner. The mayor’s son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is coming a few hours later than I would have liked. I've been trying to get in a chapter a day, but I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to keep up. Let me know if the chapter reads too rushed.


	5. Chapter 5

Rory Christner was handsome, athletic and by what Janet was telling me charming and intelligent. His father was the _mayor_ of the city and Rory was primed to follow in his footsteps. By all measures he was so out of my league it wasn't even funny.

So why had he taken me into the hotel? It seemed kind at first, but if he had really been worried about me, why not send me to the hospital?

I stood up, mumbled a thank you to Janet and walked away. She was saying something, trying to get my attention, but it was nothing more than the panicked babblings of a girl out of her depth. Was that how I sounded to most people?

I stepped out of the hotel. The sun was past its peak and beginning to fall, but there was still several hours of daylight left. Plenty of time to work with.

The mayor had an official residence - a place to stay for whoever got elected, although I knew that most used it purely for business. I remembered going there with Dad back when the Dockworkers Association had more of a say in how things went on. That had been a long time ago.

I had to walk a decent distance before I found a bus station. The good people of the boardwalk weren't particular to the sort of people who had to rely on the bus, nevermind that those same people needed to get to work there every day. Just another barrier to keep the riff-raff out.

A bus came and I got on. The bus driver didn't even look up. Just another nobody.

I found an open seat near the back and closed my eyes.

The rage was still there. Bubbling deep inside me, begging to burst out.

Not yet, but soon.

* * *

If the boardwalk was where all the rich people went to play and spend their money, downtown was where they made it. Here was where Brockton Bay's skyline rose up, glass and steel structures each trying to outdo the other in sleek design and sheer height.

As if in defiance to the modernity and technological feats of construction, was the mayor’s official residence. A modest two-story home complete with lawn and a view of the bay, it was nestled between two towering buildings. A patch of green in a sea of grey. It had no doubt been an awe-inspiring mansion back during the 1700s, but now it was a relic kept by the administration purely out of tradition.

A tourist group stood out in front of it, snapping pictures as a guide explained all the famous people who had lived and died there. Founding fathers, important deals, salacious affairs and so on. I tuned the guide out and hung back at the end of the group.

The house was surrounded by a chest-high stone wall with a iron gate at the center. It was mostly ornamental, the real security was the man in a suit standing out in front. Even from where I stood, I could see the bulge at his side that could only mean one thing.

Well, that was fine, I wasn't planning on going in through the front door anyway.

The tour guide finished up a story with generous oohs and ahs from her crowd. He gave the tourists a couple more moments to snap a photo before he began to move them to their next location.

I trailed behind until they turned the corner. No one questioned me as I slipped away and headed towards a nearby coffee shop. The shop was totally commercial and it was all business as I got tea. I found a seat away from the windows and blew gently to cool my drink.

There were a few other customers, most keeping to themselves. Businessmen checking stocks on laptops or typing up reports. Minimal distractions.

I took a sip, letting the warmth travel through me. I closed my eyes and focused on the bugs.

Millions of tiny lifeforms filled the cracks of the world. Beneath our feet and in the walls, they thrived in the concrete jungle where all other life had failed.

The mayor's office was no different. An infestation of termites was working its way through the worn wood of the inner walls and their path networked a solid blueprint of at least half the building. The rest of the home was mapped out by the typical assortment of spiders, ants and flies. There was an entire ecological world with its own cycle of life and death and the mayor didn't even know.

I commandeered a small army of flies and sent them through the house. They went in one by one, discreetly, no more noticeable than normal. Navigating was a little difficult, I had no eyes to see with and there was no way I could cover the entire interior with bugs. Still as I spread my bugs out, each landing and touch they made gradually filled out a picture in my head. And if the flies landed on something that moved, I forced them to latch on. Movement meant person. And each person meant a chance at Rory.

Directing the bugs was so much easier when I was actually there to see their movements, but with patience and concentration I marked every person within the mansion.

It took nearly an hour, but with it I had formed a complete picture in my head. In total, twelve people were inside the mansion, most of them were sitting at desks. I ignored those ones.

There were two that got my interest. They were in a room surrounded by books - some sort of library or study - and of the figures only one was sitting. The other alternated between standing and pacing seemingly at random. From the way the mansion was constructed, to the positions of where everyone was, everything radiated around this room. The people within were important and that could only mean the mayor. And by extension, his son.

So I had a target, the question now was how to get inside. I could go in with the proverbial guns blazing, overpower the guards and barge into the mayor's study and demand his son.

But something told me that wouldn't work. Or at least not how I would like it to.

My tea had gone cold, but I took a drink anyways. The reality was, my powers were painfully limited. I didn't have the durability to go toe-to-toe with anyone - even one of the ordinary guards could take me out with a well-placed punch. But at range, I had to direct my bugs purely by feel and even then the only thing I could really do was follow people or sting them. To be fair, it had worked very well against Lung, but it didn't give me a lot of flexibility.

Before I could go deeper in how crappy my power was, the restless figure exited the study. He went over to the others, pausing for a moment at each before moving on until he finished checking in on all of them. From there he moved on towards the front door.

I sipped at my tea, forcing myself to keep still. I had no way of confirming who it was, but at the same time I was confident it was Rory. Who else would hang out so casually in the mayor's office?

If he actually left the mansion, I would have to follow him. If he was actually Rory then it would be the perfect stroke of luck, if it wasn't than I would simply go back to my stakeout until I figured a better plan.

The figure exited the mansion, paused for a moment and the guard at the front jostled a little. They were talking. I couldn’t make out the words, but it couldn’t have been a long conversation because he was already moving on. The figure was moving at a steady pace - jogging speed - and turned the corner.

He was heading my way. I looked up, watching the shop window out of the corner of my eye, praying good luck would last a little longer.

Rory appeared a moment later, still in his grey business suit. He slowed down as he came to the door and entered the coffee shop.

I ducked my head, not wanting to risk him seeing me. Just as it was in Fendi, my ratty hoodie stood out amongst these business types. I was really starting to reconsider my wardrobe choices.

"Hey," I could hear Rory as he came up to the counter, "How you doing?"

"Good, how can I help you, sir?"

Rory paused and I could hear the rustling of paper. In the measured way of someone reading aloud, he answered, "Can I get two double espressos, six large coffees, two with milk and sugar and four black?"

"Of course, sir, anything else?"

Rory laughed. "No, I think that's about all I can carry."

The barista shared his laugh and rang him up, telling him that they would call his name when his order was ready.

"Thanks," Rory said as he moved off to the side to wait.

He was just ten feet from me. A businessman chattering on the phone the only thing between us.

This was the perfect opportunity wasn't it? But for what exactly? Somehow the idea of storming into the mayor's office and questioning him seemed a lot dumber. I had only been eavesdropping, but everything from the way he acted to the way he talked gave off the impression that this was someone who was _genuinely nice._

I had an insane idea, one I would have never considered until now. I was just going to talk to him.

I stood up. I would be fine. I gave my palms a wipe on my pants, drying them only marginally. I was _pretty sure_ I would be fine.

I stepped around the businessman and walked up to Rory. He was checking his phone, killing time.

"Hey," I said to him.

He looked up and for a moment his expression twisted. A mix of shock and confusion. He recovered quickly, ducking his head as he whispered, "What are you doing here?"

The urgentness of his question caught me off guard and just like that, I locked up. All the pressing questions I had faded out of my head. I stared blankly at him, suddenly on the spot.

"What?" was all I managed to say.

He glanced from side to side, looking for something, but he must not have found it because he turned back to me. Still whispering, he spoke. "We shouldn't be talking here."

"What?", I said automatically, "Why not?"

This time it was his turn to stare at me.

"We've gone over this before and this is not the time or place to be arguing," he said finally.

Before I could respond, the barista cut in.

"Your drinks are ready, sir."

Rory nodded and quickly leaned towards me, close enough I could smell a hint of aftershave. "We'll talk later okay? I've gotta go, I'm still on duty."

He pulled away and got his coffee with a smile and thanks. As he walked away, his expression changed, he gave me a reproachful look, like a parent reprimanding their unruly child.

I opened my mouth, but I had no idea what to say. My mind was a wasteland, nuked to dust.

He didn't wait for me. He went out the door and I could do nothing but watch as my only lead disappeared around the corner.

The only question - the only word - that seemed to fit my entire thought process was "What?"

I stumbled to a seat and collapsed in it. The way he had talked, the things he had said. None of it made sense.

_BRRING_

I jumped, nearly falling out of the chair.

_BRRING_

The cellphone, I remembered belatedly. I patted myself frantically. Where had I put it? I had never even owned a cellphone before.

_BRRI-_

I found the phone finally and hit answer.

“You there, Bug?” Lisa asked suddenly. She sounded breathless as if she had just finished running a marathon.

She still didn’t know my name. It seemed odd that she didn’t. I had almost forgotten I even had a secret identity.

“Yeah,” I replied dumbly. My brain was still stuck on monosyllabic responses.

Static filled the line. She had sighed. “Okay, that’s good. That’s really good.”

“What?” My familiar refrain.

“I’ll explain in a second," Lisa said quickly, she was practically falling over her words, "Listen, I’ve got a question for you first. I need you to answer it as naturally as possible. Don’t think about it, just say the first thing that pops in your head. Can you do that for me?”

What was she talking about? No one was making any sense. Nothing made any sense. My mouth moved on its own. “Sure.”

“Great, okay, then let’s say your dad was really far away, someplace where you can’t go to see him. In fact, you haven't seen him in years. You can’t call him or send him a text message. No, the only thing you can do is write a letter. So you do. You tell him all about your day and what you’ve been doing. You write him a long and personal letter because you know it’ll be the only thing he gets from you for weeks. You want him to remember you. Once you finish writing, all you have left is the last line. How do you sign off?”

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. My throat had closed like a hand had wrapped around it.

The phone slipped from my fingers and crashed to the floor. I could hear the tinny voice of Lisa crying out in panic. She was yelling my name.

Not Bug, but my real name. Taylor.

That's who YT was.

Yours truly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this story were a book that you could hold in your hands, you would notice that this is the halfway point.


	6. Waking Up

###### Two days ago

I woke to the smell of burning hair. Mine, I remembered.

I pulled myself up. Every muscle in my body ached in protest and raw skin chafed against my costume but I welcomed it. The pain was visceral, sharp, a constant reminder that I was really there.

I got to my feet and looked over the edge of the building just in time to see a slick blue motorcycle come to a stop. It looked like it had driven straight out of a Tron video game and its rider was similarly decked out in a blue high-tech suit. It was Armsmaster, leader of the Brockton Bay Protectorate.

He spotted me instantly and raised his halberd into the air. A grappling hook shot out, too fast to see and he followed it a second after, zipping upwards. I watched as he rolled mid-air and landed on the other side of the roof perfectly poised with a six-foot long halberd set between me and him.

"You gonna fight me?" He asked.

"No,” I replied calmly.

He didn’t relax, his stance was balanced, just as ready to dash forward as it was to step back. “You a new cape?”

“Yeah.” I started to stretch, but stopped as I saw him tighten up. I turned to face him more directly. “I’m on your side.”

“My side is with the Protectorate,” Armsmaster said flatly, “And you’re not one of the Wards.”

“No, I’m not,” I offered a smile, though he wouldn’t see it through my mask. “But I would like to be one."

His helmet had an opaque visor that covered his eyes, but I knew he was studying me. Finally, he eased up, pulling the halberd back.

"You're telling the truth." It was a statement, not a question and the certainty which it had been said gave me pause. Did he have a lie detector in that helmet of his? That would make this conversation a lot more difficult.

He walked towards me. His suit looked sturdy, but it was surprisingly compact and his footsteps made no more noise than normal ones. He stopped before me and held out a hand.

I took it and we shook.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Armsmaster," he said.

"Nice to meet you," I replied in kind, "I haven't picked a name yet."

He nodded with a wry smile. "Understandable, most of the good ones are taken."

That wasn't why, but I laughed anyways. It was the appropriate thing to do.

"Nevertheless," Armsmaster continued, "That'll be one of many things the Protectorate will be able to help you with. We take care of our own."

"That's good to hear," I said politely, "But honestly I'm more concerned about something else."

He frowned. "And what's that?"

"Well, Lung for starters."

"He shouldn't be a problem. One moment." He held a finger up as he turned to the side. "Triumph? Is Lung secure yet? Good, then rendezvous with me. I have someone I'd like you to meet." He turned back to me. "Lung is unconscious and detained, he's on his way to a containment cell at PHQ. Good work by the way."

Though, I hadn’t done it myself, I still felt the glow of praise. This was the leader of the Brockton Bay Protectorate after all. "Thanks," I said simply.

"He really took a beating. What happened?"

“Stung him with just about everything I had at my disposal. Pumped him full of a lot of venom, but he’s a regenerator so he can take it, right?”

Armsmaster paused and directed his full attention to me. “What exactly is your power?”

“Oh, sorry.” I held up a hand and on cue a spider crawled up my body to the end of my finger. “I control bugs.”

Armsmaster regarded me seriously. “What type of spider is that?”

“A black widow,” I replied casually. It wasn’t the worst thing I had biting Lung, but it was the most well-known threat and I needed a certain theatrical flair here.

“You had _those_ biting Lung?”

I gave him an innocent look, “Isn’t he supposed to be really tough?”

Armsmaster shot me a glare before turning away. He raised his arm and a panel folded open revealing a small screen with words too small for me to make out. He began typing something with furious speed. When he was done, the panel closed and he faced me once more. I could only see the lower half of his face, but it conveyed a surprising amount of emotion. His jaw was set and he spoke in a level tone.

“First of all, I want to repeat what I said before, this was good work. Taking down Lung could not have been easy,” he said with as little cheer as humanly possible, “ _But_ there is a procedure we have to follow in cases like his. Lethal force should only ever be used as a last resort. Do I make myself clear?”

Here was where _she_ would have broken out into a cold sweat and wilted.

“ _Sir_ ,” I said curtly and the formal address caught his attention more than any expletive would have, “You’re right. Lung did _not_ go down easy. I threw everything I had at him and it still wasn’t enough. If I held back at all, I would have _died_.”

He stared at me and I met him head-on. We both had masks that covered our eyes, but it would still come down to who blinked first.

A figure dropped down onto the rooftop in a classic three-point landing and both Armsmaster and I whipped around to face the sudden newcomer. It was a young man wearing a gladiator outfit with a lion theme. He had two pauldrons decorated to appear like lions as well as a helmet that looked like a lion’s pelt had been thrown over his head.

“Am I interrupting something?” He asked good-naturedly. With that simple question, all the earlier tension dissipated.

Armsmaster sighed. “No, I was just talking to… well, she doesn’t have a name yet.”

The gladiator grinned. “All the good ones taken, huh?”

“Something like that,” I said, happy for the interruption.

He held out his hand and I shook it.

“The name’s Triumph, it’s good to meet you.”

“Likewise, I mean,” I gestured between the men, “I can’t believe I actually got the chance to meet two heroes on my first night out.”

Triumph laughed while Armsmaster remained silent, annoyed even. Flattery wouldn’t work with him, I would remember that.

“Would you like to meet more?” Armsmaster asked, back to business.

I tilted my head quizzically. “What do you mean?”

“You said you wanted to join the Wards,” Armsmaster explained, “If you’d like we can take you to visit our headquarters. Think of it as a preview of what’s to come.”

“That’s a great idea,” Triumph added, “We won’t have the full team there, but you can meet some of your future teammates.”

I knew I wouldn’t have the time, but more than that, I just didn’t care. I knew Armsmaster was still trying to sell me on becoming a Ward, even though I had already told him that was exactly what I wanted. A visit was pointless, if anything it would be too risky.

“No thanks,” I said, “I think I’ve had enough excitement for one night. Besides my dad, still doesn’t even know about… _this_. I’d like to talk to him before anything big happens.”

“Understandable,” Armsmaster said with a nod. He reached for belt and pulled out a little laminated card. It was a business card with his name and title written in the same style as some business executive’s - Armsmaster, Leader of the ENE Protectorate. It was surprisingly plain, disappointedly so in fact. There was a number at the bottom. “If the talk with your father doesn’t go well or if you have any questions or need anything else, just call the number and we’ll help out.”

I took the card and looked it over. “Thanks.”

He smiled, which I hadn’t expected. He had a nice smile and it was a shame he didn’t use it more often. “We’d be glad to have you on board. Keep in touch.”.

Triumph nodded along. “I know I sure as hell want the girl who took down Lung on my team.”

I grinned. “Definitely.”

Triumph gave me one more wave and with that settled, the two heroes leapt away leaving me alone on the roof.

I let out a long breath and set myself down. I was exhausted, physically from the fight and mentally from just _being_. I wouldn’t faint, but my time was so much shorter compared to her’s. It wasn’t fair, she had so much and yet did so little while I was just the opposite.

Regardless, with the scraps I had, I accomplished a lot today. All things considered, my conversation with Armsmaster had been very productive. I closed my eyes and let my breathing steady. As I drifted off, fading into the background, I took comfort in that fact that I was one step closer to becoming a true hero.

* * *

###### Three months ago

The worst part wasn’t the smell or the cramped quarters. Nor was it the pain of books digging into my gut or the even the _slime_ that dripped down my face, congealed in my shirt and marred my skin. The worst part was that I could _see outside_. Through the slats of the locker, the light of the hallway fell on my face, taunting me.

Freedom was only a centimeter of metal away, but no matter how I screamed or pushed or kicked, it would not come.

I wouldn’t be able to hold on long and as it was, neither could _she_. We were switching out like a coin spinning in the air, both of us sharing this little slice of hell. Would we die here without ever having really met?

The very idea made me uncomfortable - almost as much as the locker itself. I didn’t feel sad or upset about it, it simply _bothered me_. This was not how things were supposed to be. People had their place and I didn’t belong here. I was a hero.

A shadow fell over my face. A person.

“Let me out,” I croaked. My other side had screamed our throat dry.

The shadow moved away and the light poured back in.

 _Scum_. It was all they were. Sluts, liars, bullies and _cowards_. They hid behind smiles, but beneath it all was a cesspool of lies. They had compromised their morals. Given in to what they _knew_ was wrong because it was _convenient_.

To be a hero was to be good. No matter the cost, no matter the difficulty, without break or vacation, a hero had to do the right thing. Every. Time.

Again and again, people disappointed me. Sooner or later, whether through malice or apathy, they all succumbed to evil. It would have been easy to lash out - to just bring a boxcutter to school and let loose. In fact, my other side had the very same idea, but where she failed to follow through because of fear, I resisted because that was _the right thing to do_.

Another shadow flickered past me, not even pausing long enough for me to muster the strength to cry out.

I bit my lip and tasted a foulness that made me spit. I had resisted evil, but in the end, what had that accomplished? I was brought back to the same nagging thought that itched at me before. If I died here and now, then what did mean for me as a person? What good had I contributed to the world?

Nothing. The answer was that I had done _nothing_.

Idiot. My vision dimmed, the light fading. I was pulling away, the coin making its next rotation.

No, that wasn’t it.

I could feel her right along my side.

I was being taken. We both were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have broken another personal rule with this chapter. I've actually written a locker scene.


	7. Chapter 7

Time. How much time had I lost? At the hotel, it had been at least four hours. A pit formed in my stomach and my insides seemed to simply _drop_. Four whole hours. I could have done anything in that time.

I had been... sleep-walking? Unconsciously going out? Or... I braced myself against the table, leaning over it like I was about to hurl. Was there someone else in my head?

For so long, I had felt betrayed by my body. The sweating, the fainting and the absolute failure to _function_ was it all sabotage?

I hesitated to call my other half "myself" or "she". There was simply no way to make the distinction. It wasn't me, but at the same time, _it had been me_.

The meeting leaking to Armsmaster, my father being put to bed and who knew what else. It had been me all along.

I laughed. A sharp bark that drew stares from everyone in the coffee shop. I didn't care, it was too fitting for me not to laugh. Of course it had been my fault. _It was always my fault._ I kept laughing, breathless giggles that wracked my body.

How had I not seen it before? It was so obvious in retrospect. I knew how vile I truly was and yet somehow I expected there to be someone else to blame for this whole ridiculous affair. It was a dream, a fantastical dream that there could be anyone worse than me.

I clutched at myself, finger digging to the meat of my arms. I wanted to rip it out, tear myself to pieces. I had sworn to kill YT hadn't I? Well why not then. Why not just -

"Taylor!"

I looked up, mouth hanging open.

It was the barista, her lip was quivering and she seemed on the verge of tears. She had the store phone in her hand.

"Lisa," the barista swallowed and pressed on, "Lisa says you need to pick up the cellphone."

I looked down and sure enough, there was the cellphone right where I had dropped it. The call was still open.

I wanted to stomp on the cracked screen and shatter it completely. Lisa had been right not to trust me. The Undersiders would have been better off if they had never met me. I was a walking disaster and anyone who came close would be collateral damage.

I picked up the cellphone.

"Help me," I begged, my voice cracking.

"Of course, Taylor,” Lisa said soothingly, “Of course, we can help you. Are you okay? Can you walk?"

"I can..." I stood up, feeling shaky, "I can walk."

"Good, then I need you to come and meet us. Can you do that for me?"

Somewhere in me, a patch of hope grew. "Yeah," I said.

"Okay, then I need you to come to the docks. 21 Elmhurst Street on 4th ave. Can you get there?"

"Yeah."

"Repeat it back to me."

I did and with each word I felt my head clearing up. They were going to help me.

"Good," Lisa said once I finished, "Now go, we need you here as soon as possible."

"Yeah."

The call had already ended. I pocketed the phone. My nose was still runny and I felt as though I had run a fifteen miles, but I had _direction_. I forced everything else out of my head. Get to the Undersiders, I chanted silently, get to the Undersiders.

The whole coffee shop was watching me, but I ignored them. I picked up my bookbag and walked out.

I had another goal, simple as it was. Meet with the Undersiders and fix _this_. What fixing would actually entail, I had no idea, but it didn't matter. I would take whatever I could get.

* * *

I would be fine, I whispered to myself, everything would be fine. I had changed up my mantra, endlessly repeating words of optimism. It was my prayer to whatever gods were out there to just grant me this one little bit of luck.

So far, I had made it to the docks with no problem. That was more of an accomplishment than it sounded like because the docks was in the running for worst neighborhood in town. The docks had been the center of Brockton Bay's industry, home to factories and warehouses and yes, docks. However after the shipping business had dried up, so had everything else. Now the docks were filled with nothing but derelict buildings and the people too poor to go anywhere else.

Nothing was cheaper than free and though I had seen less drug addicts and crazies than I had been expecting, I still saw enough to be a little guarded as I navigated the streets.

On the bright side, for once, I didn't feel ashamed of my shabby clothes. I almost fit in - which was less than encouraging all things considered. There were other people besides the dregs, workers coming home after a long day’s work, older folk hanging out on the stoops sharing jokes and drinks, even an exhausted looking mother leading her daughter along.

Ignore the occasional passed-out junkie and the boarded-up buildings and it almost felt normal. It was… surprisingly encouraging. A testament to human endurance and adaptability. That even here in the absolute ass-end of town, there could be people who were simply _normal_. If that was possible then maybe I could really be fixed?

I stopped mid-step. There was something niggling at the peripheries of my awareness. My bugs were... unsettled.

I zeroed in on the sensation immediately and grimaced at what I found. It wasn't as bad as it could have been, but it was still pretty terrible. I still had control of all of my bugs, but of those _the wasps_ were absolutely frantic with bloodlust.

To begin with, there shouldn't have even been that many wasps in the area, maybe a nest or two, but this was way more than that. Worst of all, the wasps were heading in the direction of the address Lisa had given me.

No wonder she had called me over to their place. It was silly to think that the Undersiders would help me purely out of the goodness of their heart.

I picked up the pace, taking control of the wasps as they entered my range. There was no doubt in my mind that this was the work of my... counterpart. I half-expected some sort of resistance as I forcibly calmed the wasps down, but there was nothing.

Was I just stronger than her? I almost laughed. The only person I could beat was myself, how appropriate. I walked around an overweight man while maintaining concentration on the bugs. Managing the wasps was no problem, managing and walking on the other hand was a little tougher. It was as if I was the best trumpet player in the world and could play any piece flawlessly, but ask me to march at the same time and I was stuck playing "Yankee Doodle".

The Undersider's home (hideout? Lair?) came into view. It was a squat red-brick building, a former factory by the looks of it. I didn't need to enter to know that it was absolutely _infested_. Wasps covered every available surface, enough to give me a perfect impression of the insides.

The first floor was flat, a proper husk for a dead factory. But the second floor was a luxurious loft with full amenities - bedrooms, bathrooms, kitchen and a big TV. It would have been a very nice place to live if it weren't for all the wasps.

I pulled them under my control and began flushing them out of the loft. The streets here were already empty, anyone nearby scared off long ago, but I kept the bugs contained to the first floor all the same. I walked headlong into the swarm and navigated blindly to the stairs. The loft door was open and I stepped inside.

"Hello?" I called out.

"Taylor?" A muffled voice asked from behind a wall.

"Yeah, it's me." I replied.

A door down the hallway cracked open with the whine of peeling tape.

Lisa stepped out in full costume, though she didn't look quite as confident as the night I first met her. Her right eye had swollen so much she had given up the domino mask entirely.

"Hey, Taylor" she said with a smirk that didn't quite work with her face already lopsided, "How are you feeling?"

"Not great," I admitted.

"That sucks," Lisa said sympathetically, "Would you be okay if the other Undersiders came out?"

I grimaced at the question. She was checking in with me because she didn't want me fainting. Now that I was actually in the loft I could see the extent of the damage. The TV was broken, something big had crashed into it and a table had been overturned, a variety of tableware and food scattered across the floor in pieces.

"I don’t know," I answered finally.

"That's fine," Lisa said, "No problem."

I closed my eyes and sighed. That's fine. No problem. It sounded so simple. As if this had never happened.

I opened my eyes and looked to Lisa. "What did I do?"

"Taylor, it wasn't you, you -"

"Please," I said sharply, "What did I do?"

Lisa frowned and looked over the loft. "I'll explain, but just to make things easier, I'll just call... _her_ , YT, okay?"

Grimly, I nodded.

Lisa forced a smile, "Okay then. So after our meeting at the boardwalk, I..." Lisa winced, "I _thought_ I had left your range, but YT still tracked me down. After that, YT attacked us while we were having lunch. At first it was only a few wasps, but they just kept coming. It was very gradual, I don't think she controls them the way you do?"

She wrinkled her nose, unsure. "Maybe pheromones, maybe something else. Stung me pretty bad as you can see. Me and the other Undersiders holed up in my room and secured it, but there was no way we were getting out of the building without some drastic measures. I called you and..." Lisa eyed me carefully, "I talked to YT. She wasn't interested in negotiating or anything, but from there it was easy to figure out that it wasn't really _you._ "

My breath hitched. Lisa had spoken to YT. I wasn't exactly sure how to respond to that. I still had a hard time believing that this other me could even _speak_.

"After that, " Lisa went on, "We waited a little longer, tried out some other plans and then I called you again. This time it was _you_." Again with the emphasis, as if she was trying to remind me.

"And now here I am," I finished for her.

"Here you are. Thanks by the way," Lisa said.

I let out a bitter laugh. "For what? Ruining your place?"

"That wasn't you. Do you hear me? It was YT,” Lisa gave me a serious one-eyed stare, “YT did this and _you_ fixed it."

She said it with such conviction, I almost believed her. I walked over to a chair and let myself fall into it.

"This is insane," I said more to myself than to Lisa.

Lisa pulled up a chair next to me, though she was careful not to get too close. It must have looked so odd, two girls sitting a full five feet apart with no table in between them.

"We've all got issues. Parahumans especially."

"Not like mine."

Lisa shrugged. "Not exactly, but hey at least YT isn't a psychotic serial killer. In our world that counts for a lot."

My stomach turned at the thought. I had _no idea_ what YT had done. She could have easily killed dozens or hundreds. I knew all too well that all it would take was one bite from a brown recluse and that was it.

"Shit, forget I said that," Lisa said quickly, "My point is that YT hasn't done much more than be a pain-in-the-ass. Nothing we haven't dealt with before."

I smiled dimly. Whether or not her assurances were true, I appreciated the thought.

"You said over the phone that you could help me," I said in a flat voice, "Was that true?" Or was that just to bring me here so I could clear the bugs?

"It's the truth, but there are some complications," Lisa stood up, "Before we get to that, do you think you'll be okay if the rest of the team comes out now? I've gotta catch them up on everything and they've been cooped up in my room for a real long time."

My skin prickled as I imagined the glares, but I nodded dutifully.

"Thanks, I'll be right back."

I watched her go and began preparing myself. There was no way the other members of her team would be so understanding. I'm not sure I would be.

I thought back to when I first met the Undersiders. I had been out to prove myself as the next big thing in Brockton Bay's underworld and bit off way more than I could chew. The Undersider had arrived just as Lung had been about to roast me alive and then after that, they had _thanked me._ Said they _owed me._

Half-burnt and bruised all over, that one moment had been the most positive experience I had in months. It had been a fresh start, free of my history and it had gone _well_. At the time, I thought it was a sign of a new beginning.

In reality, nothing had changed. I was a coward, forever trapped in the cycle of mistake and regret.

But still, there was a ray of hope that flickered in and out. The Undersiders. If they still wanted me, if they were willing to help me. Maybe, just maybe I could be saved.

The Undersiders finally emerged from the room, they had taken a long time, but any questions I might’ve asked disappeared as I saw them. Unlike Lisa, they were all in their civilian clothes and most of them sported huge swelling bumps on their arms and faces. I could feel the dampness in my hands.

“Hey Taylor,” Brian said plainly. His left cheek had grown to an absurd size, but the majority of his welts were along his arms.

“Hey,” I replied weakly.

None of the other Undersiders offered greetings. Alec no longer had the pretty boy look, his face was tumorous like he had walked out of a radiation chamber. The last member of the Undersiders stood far in the back - Rachel, I remembered - she wasn’t even looking at me, her focus entirely on the three dogs that trailed behind her.

“Okay, gang’s all here,” Lisa said with forced levity, “Taylor, is downstairs all clear?”

“Uh, no,” I said, “Need me to clear it out, too?”

“Yes please.”

I closed my eyes and focused. This was gonna be difficult. Moving the wasps wasn’t the hard part, putting them away safely and discreetly was. I could move them all outside and out of the way, but not without creating a tidal wave of wasps that anyone could see. At that point I was pretty sure someone - even in this neighborhood - would call the Protectorate. At the same time, I couldn’t force the bugs out of my range, because then they would just come right back. Whatever force that drove them here was still acting on them. All the more reason we needed to leave.

Eventually I settled for a half-measure, I found a row of dumpsters near the building and stuffed the wasps in them, packing them as tight as sardines. They were still nearby, but out of the way and in a spot few would look. 

“It’s clear now,” I said.

“Thanks, Taylor,” Brian said.

I tried not to think about his swelling cheek.

“We’re getting out of here,” Brian turned, addressing the Undersiders, “If you guys need to bring anything, do it now.”

Everyone waited on the other.

“Les fokken go alrey,” Alec mumbled through a fat lip.

“Oh wait a moment,” Lisa spoke up, “I need to change clothes.”

“Fokken shet.”

Lisa disappeared into her room and I was left with the other Undersiders.

No one said anything. I watched as Rachel patted the head of one of her dogs. They were entirely uninjured. Had she protected them the whole time?

“So,” Brian spoke up, “You don’t remember anything.”

I swallowed, feeling my blood run cold. Here it was. Their tolerance could only last for so long, after all I had caused all of this. I gulped and forced my voice steady. “Sorry,” was all I said.

“What for?” Brian asked, his voice still serious, “It wasn’t you, right?”

“I mean, it wasn’t, but still…” If I had never met them then this would have never happened.

“Alright,” Brian said, “I get it.”

And then that was it. No accusation, no yelling, no demanding for an explanation, he just dropped it.

Lisa walked back into the room, wearing a sweater and jeans. A modest teenager.

“Alright, I’m here, let’s go.”

Brian nodded and we headed downstairs. It was a silent procession, but that didn’t bother me. If anything I welcomed it. All things considered this had gone far better than I could have ever imagined. The longer I kept my mouth shut, the less I risked ruining it all.

This could maybe work. Maybe after this was all over I could really join the Undersiders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the late chapter. I've been quite busy lately and I likely will be for the coming days. This chapter might have suffered as a result, but I'll try to keep the updates consistent nonetheless.


	8. Chapter 8

It was crowded in the van, Brian drove and Alec sat in the front which left me, Lisa, Rachel and her three dogs in the back. While we sat on bare benches, the dogs took up most of the floorspace and I had to awkwardly put my feet between the legs of one german shepard and a terrier that was missing an eye and ear. The third dog, a mean-looking rottweiler lay curled at Rachel's feet.

I had always liked animals, dogs especially. It wasn't a complicated feeling or an uncommon one. No one could dislike a companion who would never judge or betray you.

We drove in silence, long gone from the hideout and the wasps. Heading to another safehouse, Lisa had explained and that had been that. It didn't feel right for me of all people to pry for details.

The van hit a bump and we were all jostled in the back. There wasn't much in the way of seatbelts and I barely managed to stay in my seat.

"Hey!" Lisa cried out.

"Sorry," Brian replied automatically.

One of the dogs, the german shepherd began whining, its ears flat against its head. I reached down to calm it down.

"Don't fucking touch him!"

I jerked away like I had been shot, my back flat against the van wall.

Rachel was glaring at me, her teeth bared and her breath coming out hot and heavy. Her dogs all matched her, the german shepherd let out a low growl.

" _Rachel_ ," Lisa hissed.

Rachel ignored her, she kept her eyes locked on me. They were open wide, the pupils dilated to pinpoints. The terrier snapped at me and I yanked my legs up to my chest, balanced precariously on the bench.

Sheer terror covered my mind like snow, smothering anything else out.

" _Rachel_!" Brian shouted, "Call them off!"

Rachel gave me smile. A mean, sneer of a smile. She put her fingers to her lips and whistled. The dogs got up and for a moment I thought they would pounce, but instead they flocked back to Rachel.

Finally, she looked away from me as she gave each of her dogs a firm pat.

"God damnit, Rachel," Lisa muttered. She turned to me, her voice soft again, "You okay? You still with us?"

I shivered, my heart was pounding, still pumping adrenaline into me. I hadn't even _said_ anything and somehow I still managed to screw everything up. Every one of my relationships soured, I was destined to be a pariah.

"Easy," Lisa said soothingly, she put a hand against my back, "Just take it easy. It's fine now."

I closed my eyes and the bugs entered my consciousness instantly. No whistling necessary, they had been there all along and their presence was reassuring in a way Lisa could never match.

"It's fine now," Lisa repeated, "We're all fine now."

Her words sounded so sweet. Tempting me with honey. I wanted to believe her more than anything else in the world. That somewhere in this miserable world there was someone who would be "fine" with me.

But as my heartrate leveled out and my head cleared up, a niggling uncertainty made itself known. There was something odd about how insistent Lisa was about soothing me. She was afraid of me. Or not me, but YT? That didn't feel right, either.

I could feel the bugs in the area, noticed how the varieties had shifted gradually to the ones more suited to water. We were getting closer to the bay.

"Everything is fine," Lisa said, "Nothing to worry about."

There was a quiet desperation in her voice. She wasn't just talking to me, she was talking to her _teammates._

The realization made my stomach drop. They hadn't forgiven me, not in the slightest. There was every reason in the world for the Undersiders to hate me. To want me dead.

Was that the "fix" they had for me? To kill me? Or was I just being paranoid? If three years of punishment had done anything for me, it had taught me how to be _sensibly_ paranoid.

I opened my eyes and met Lisa's. "I'm okay. Don't worry about me."

Lisa smiled weakly. She didn't want me to die.

I looked to Rachel who sat across from me. She had turned in her seat, one leg thrown up on the bench so that she didn't have to face me. She had been avoiding me ever since coming out of Lisa's room. Hanging back, looking away, the only time she had said anything to me was to yell at me.

I looked to the front where Brian and Alec were. I could only see the back of their heads, but I thought back to how they acted. Alec had barely acknowledged my presence and he had been unreadable with his face so swollen. I doubted I would get any sympathy from him.

Brian had been... _curt_. Even when he had absolved me of blame there had been an edge in his voice, like an accusation. He had gotten Rachel to back down, but was that because he cared or was he just being pragmatic?

The hollow pit in my stomach grew and sweat began to bead along my neck. My eyelids felt heavy, tugging downwards like weights had been tied to them.

"Hey," Lisa whispered, she had leaned close, her mouth to my ear, "You're gonna be fine, do you hear me? I won't let anything happen to you."

I blinked - a slow close and open - and turned to Lisa. "Why?" I mouthed silently to her.

Lisa grimaced. "My fault things got this bad," she whispered.

I had no idea what she was talking about. Everything that had happened was my fault. Unequivocally, entirely and without a doubt _my fault_. It was almost comforting knowing that every terrible thing that happened to you was deserved. I was living proof that karma was real.

The van came to a stop.

"We're here," Brian announced.

Doors popped open and the Undersiders exited the van. I was the last one out and gravel crunched as I stepped down.

We were at the boat graveyard. What had been a thriving port for the naval trade was now the final resting place for dozens of ships. Tankers, freighters, little tugboats even a few homely personal boats. They were run aground and into one another as if a child had slapped them together.

We stood at the base of a freighter, turned on its side, its prow nudged into the ground. There was a hole that had been cut from the exposed hull, just large enough for a person to walk through.

"Our home away from home," Lisa said brightly.

No one was in the mood to reply. Brian and Rachel went in, each ducking their head as they passed through.

"Affer oo," Alec said to me, giving me an exaggerated wave like a butler serving me.

I stared at the hole and bit my lip. It was too dark to make out anything within.

"You guys come here often?" I asked, stalling for time.

"No," Alec said.

"Oh, okay." My heart was back to beating against my chest. Could a heart bruise the outside of your chest? Would I survive to find out?

I flinched as an arm snaked around mine.

It was Lisa, she had hooked her arm with mine. She smiled.

"Come on," Lisa said, "Standing outside the hideout kinda defeats the purpose."

I swallowed and nodded dumbly. Could I trust her? She had said she wanted to protect me, but whether or not I believed her, what it really meant was that there was something that I needed protecting from.

Lisa started walking and I had no choice but to match her step. We ducked into the freighter and the darkness swallowed us whole. We walked silently in the darkness, my eyes slowly adjusting. Rusted metal surrounded us, it was a bulkhead turned on its side. If the freighter had been upright we would have been walking on the wall.

We finally came to a door on the right. A proper door with a knob and a number pad with softly glowing numbers. It had been fixed into where the floor would have been if the ship was upright.

Lisa tapped a sequence into the pad and the door swung open revealing another luxurious loft like the one I had seen at the factory. The freighter was on its side, but here was a perfectly level wood-paneled floor. There was an open kitchen, looking over a living room complete with couch and television and a generator to power it all. At the back were a row of partitioned rooms.

"Nice, huh?" Lisa said.

"Yeah," I said, mouth agape.

Rachel glanced briefly at us before returning her attention to raiding the frige. Meanwhile Brian was hunched over the generator but he looked up as we came into the room. "Room is clear, right?"

Lisa gave the room a one-off glance. "Yeah, clear as crystal."

Brian nodded. "Good, then let's talk."

"Sure thing, leader," Lisa said with a smirk, but as she did she nudged me with her elbow. It was subtle, slight enough that I wasn't sure if it wasn't just reflex.

"Privately, please," Brian said, his eyes flicking to me.

Lisa nudged me one more time, before unhooking her arm from mine.

"Alec, you and Rachel check the generator and how much gas we have," Brian said, "I need to know how long we can stay here."

Alec gave a mock salute, "Yessir."

Brian frowned, but walked away without retort. Lisa followed him, but as she did, she held her hands behind her back. An innoccous gesture except for the fact that she held out a single finger out.

I glanced at the other Undersiders, but Alec was already making his way to the couch while Rachel was guzzling down soda straight from the bottle. Lisa gave her finger a sharp wiggle, almost as if she were beckoning me, but that couldn't have been what she meant. Brian had specifically said he wanted a private talk and it wasn't like I had the power to go invisible and follow them.

I blinked. Well, I couldn't go invisible, but I could follow them in my own way. I summoned a single gnat and directed it casually to the tip of Lisa's finger. Once it landed, she let her hands fall to her side, giving no indication she had even noticed. Together with Brian, they disappeared into a room.

Alec threw himself onto the couch, taking up the entirety of it as he clicked on the TV. He flicked through channels until he came to a cartoon with comical levels of violence.

"You're not going to check the generator?" I asked.

"La'er," he replied curtly. Ending the conversation with just those two syllables.

There was a thump behind me and I jumped, but it was only Rachel. She had pulled out a large bag of dog food from the drawers while her dogs dutifully watched.

I shifted uncomfortably on my feet. I felt lost without Lisa. Though I barely knew her, she had offered me more than anyone else here. It had taken me a while to realize, but there was no way this level of silence was normal. They were stonewalling me.

"Uh, Alec?" I asked shakily.

He rolled over in the couch and regarded me coolly. "Wot."

"Where..." I swallowed, trying not to think of how many times he had been stung, "Where's the bathroom?"

"Fah aight doh." He turned back to the TV.

"Th-thanks."

He didn't respond and I took the hint. I went to the bathroom and though there wasn't much point, locked the door behind me. If they wanted in, they would get in, but even so that little click made me feel a bit more secure.

I closed my eyes and got a feel for the environment around me. The results were more than disappointing. The boat graveyard didn't have much in the way of insect life. There was nothing for the bugs to harvest here which left a meager selection of spiders, flies and gnats. I started collecting them nonetheless. Below me, in the water of the bay, was a number of small crabs, but I couldn't imagine they would be much use.

I shifted my focus to the gnat in Lisa's hand. It moved occasionally - probably gesturing, but in no way I could take meaningfully. In so many ways my power was limited. If I could see through the bug's eyes or hear through its ears, then I would know exactly what they were talking about in there. Brian certainly didn't seem interested in just a friendly chat.

My hopes of joining the Undersiders seemed dimmer by the second, as did whatever fix they had in mind for me. It shouldn't have been a surprise, but the realization still hurt. Soon, I would have nowhere else to go.

Movement caught my attention.

Not near me, but in the gnat. It's position was shifting oddly, unnatural for a bug or human.

It was tapping. Up and down in a pattern.

Tap, tap, tap, tap and hold, tap and hold, tap and hold, tap, tap, tap.

It took me a few iterations to realize what it was.

S.O.S.

The signal for distress. It was the only bit of Morse code I knew and it was fitting, we were on a boat after all.

"Hey!" A knuckle rapped sharply against the door and Rachel's voice came through just as harsh. "You done yet?"

My blood ran cold. I needed to get out. My eyes darted around the bathroom, looking for any way out. Over the toilet was a porthole and I reached out for it, but I only needed one look to know that even I wouldn't fit through it. Not to mention the glass looked thick and sturdy.

"Hey!" Rachel growled, "Answer me!"

"Just a sec!" I said quickly.

Options. Lisa's finger was still tapping. I needed to think options. Break the glass with my hidden super strength, cut my arms off to fit through the porthole and fall into the water to die from bleeding out and infection.

Option two, open the door and pray Rachel didn't kill me. Lisa and Brian hadn't left the room yet. Whatever they were discussing (me) they hadn't told the other Undersiders yet. Rachel wasn't clear to kill me just yet.

Rachel kicked the door and it rattled on its meager lock. "Hurry the fuck up!"

Right, she was _fucking insane_.

Option three, get all the bugs I could and escape.

Well, I had been gathering them steadily since I entered the bathroom. The most choice insects I had to get from further inland, so they were still a ways out, but I still had a sizable swarm in the wings of the ship.

I would need just a minute to position my swarm to flood every nook and cranny of the room in an instant. The Undersiders wouldn't be able to see a thing. Just a minute...

"OPEN THE FUCK UP!" Rachel roared.

Lisa's tapping finger stopped. She was moving to the doorway. With Brian no doubt.

No more time to plan. I had to get out now.

I took the toilet cover - weighty ceramic - in one hand and with the other, I unlocked the door.

"It's open," I called out.

Rachel threw the door open and rushed forward, fists raised.

I was already swinging. She was one step in before the toilet cover smashed against her face. Her head rocked back and she dropped like a brick.

I jumped over her, but my knees buckled suddenly and I crashed to the floor. I skidded on my stomach, the wind knocked out of me, making me gasp like a fish out of water.

Dogs were barking, growling. I could hear them around me. I tried to push myself up, but my arm folded as I tried to leverage it. This wasn't just me being a fuck-up. This was a power, some kind of body-manipulation.

This was a real cape fight then.

Bugs exploded from every surface. In the gaps of the floorboards, the sink, the cracks in the walls and ceiling and so on. Turns out constructing a room in an abandoned ship was shit for insulation.

I scrambled to my feet while the swarm surrounded me. The buzz in the air drowned out the growling dogs - as well as my gasping. I had taken a serious spill, it still felt like someone had an iron-grip on my lungs and I was left limping for the doorway.

The bugs were so thick in the air, I could feel everything around me.

Brian had made it to the door, his fists up in a boxer's stance. The bastard was basically blind, but he had enough sense to figure out where the only exit was even in all the chaos.

I had no choice. I had the bugs bite him. No wasps this time, not even bees, but a good number of spiders. They bit down without injecting their venom. He let out a shout of pain and stumbled clear of my way. I pushed past him and wrenched the door open.

My lungs were starting to expand again. I propped myself against the wall and pushed forward. I just needed to get out of the freighter. The exit was just a few more steps away.

Behind me, I felt Brian moving. He crawled over the threshold of the door and was reaching for something at his back.

A gun.

He pulled it out, but his aim was wildly off, only vaguely in my direction. Nonetheless, I set the bugs on him again.

He screamed in pain, but he still managed to squeeze the trigger. He fired again and again, shots whizzing past me and ricocheting wildly off the bulkhead.

There were so many bugs around me, I could practically feel the path the bullets took. It was a wild pinball experience for each and I was in the center of it. One slammed into my shoulder, turning me. Another struck me in the gut, expunging the last breath out of me.

My feet moved on their own, carried more by momentum than anything.

I tipped over and dropped out of the freighter as the world went black.


	9. Bleeding Out

I came to just in time to land face-first in the gravel.

The _idiot_. She had walked straight into the lion's den as if they _wouldn't_ eat her. A coward, an idiot and an absolute miserable failure.

The disgust overrode all else - even the pain and I threw my hands forward. Breathing was difficult, reduced to strained wheezing, but not impossible.

Behind me I could hear the drone of the swarm, driven to a frenzy by her last command. The sound echoed through the freighter like static.

I kept crawling forward.

There was a warm dampness at my gut, but I ignored it. Spider-silk was bullet-proof I reassured myself. There was less chitinous armor plating in that area, but that was fine. Spider-silk was bullet-proof.

Even in the darkness of the night, I could make out the outline of the van. It wasn’t far and I dragged myself across the gravel towards it. My clothes, the hoodie and the pants were being torn to shreds inch by inch. I would be left with nothing but my costume. I regretted only that I didn't have my mask.

Well, I was far past the point of secret identities. I had the _idiot_ to thank for that. Idiot, coward, failure. Coward, idiot, failure, idiot, failure, coward and so on. To even _think_ of joining such scum as the Undersiders made me sick to my stomach.

With one more heave, I set myself to the side of the van. I had made it. Unlike her, I was strong. A hero had to be strong. I sucked in a deep breath and in the next second, coughed it all out. The next step was getting up.

I pressed my hands into the gravel and _pushed_. I rose and before my arms gave out, turned over so that I sat against the van. A sigh of relief escaped my lips.

Exhaustion drained me. Every muscle in my body felt dead, rotted away to nothingness. Sleep called to me.

I grit my teeth until my jaw ached. Another twinge of pain to keep me awake. With my back pressed against the van, I gathered my feet below me. I slipped once, twice, but the third time, with a gasp, I stood.

The warmth at my gut dribbled down to my thigh, seeping into my skin. I would not look. I refused to.

I raised my arm and with the end of my elbow I brought it down against the van window.

It bounced off and the tremors went through me. I bit my lip. Here was where the _coward_ would have given up.

I slammed my elbow against the window again to no avail.

"Fuck!" I cursed and swung once more.

The glass cracked, a spiderweb forming at the center.

I grinned, a feral glee at the damage.

The window took another three solid hits before it crumpled. From there it was easy to reach in and open the door. I pulled myself into the driver’s seat and for the first time since waking up, I looked down to inspect my wound.

My costume had been a dark grey, but a circle had formed at my gut that made it pure black. I touched it shakily and my hand came back red. The cloth of my costume was sucked into the wound - it hadn’t broken, but deformed as the bullet drilled through. Worst of all, the hole was just below a nice juicy chunk of plating. The idiot couldn’t even get shot properly.

I leaned back into the seat. The wound wasn’t deep, I told myself, it was superficial. The bleeding like a paper cut, a lot of fuss for nothing. It didn't even hurt, only a distant sensation like it belonged to someone else.

“Fuck,” I swore again as I reached under the wheel and tore open the paneling. This was not a nice van. It was worn, crusty and vulnerable to one of the oldest tricks in the book. I ripped the wiring and found the pair needed to jump-start the engine. My fingers were slippery with blood, but I kept a firm grip on the wires. They sparked as I pressed them together and with a rumble the engine came to life.

I smiled with satisfaction. I knew she couldn’t have done that.

I was only 15, but I knew enough about cars to know how to drive. Step one: Buckle up, step two: shift into drive, step three: just fucking drive. The sound of crunching gravel came through the open window as I pulled away from the freighter.

I needed to get in touch with the Protectorate. The Undersiders were overwhelmed, the swarm still infested their hideout and now I was taking their van. There was no better chance to take them all in.

I would settle this once and for all. Crush that stupid failure’s delusions and set us both on the right path. I doubted she would have the sense to thank me. She had actually been desperate enough to want to be _friends_ with the most pathetic band of villains in town. It was insulting on so many levels at once.

I came out onto the streets proper and promptly flew past a red light.

In my defense, I hadn’t seen it until I was nearly under it. But it was fine either way, there were no other cars in the neighborhood and emergency vehicles didn’t have to obey the rule of law when the occasion called for it. And here I was with an entire villain team just waiting to be captured - no greater occasion.

I took a turn and was rattled in my seat as the van popped the curb briefly. That was a little less excusable. But it would be fine, if…

I frowned, feeling my eyelids growing heavier by the moment. There should still be time, I had been getting more and more lately.

I touched my gut, it no longer felt warm, instead a chill creeped up my back. _I_ was running out of time.

Another red light came and went.

I only needed a little longer. Get back to civilization, find a phone, make a call. Armsmaster had given me his card and I had the number memorized.

Distantly, I thought of the cellphone Tattletale had given me. It would have been useful right about now.

Another red light, a bloody streak.

Still, no one.

My knuckles were bare-white against the wheel. I didn't need them. They would have only gotten in the way. Taken my identity and used it against me.

I just needed a fucking phone. An open store or something.

I took a turn, not letting up on the acceleration. There was a _thud_ , but it was only a garbage can. Just a garbage can.

Ahead I could see lights. Neon bright with pink and blue wrapped together in words and shapes I couldn't make out. It sucked me in like a moth. I pressed down on the gas.

Red lights stood in my way, but I blew through them, one after the other. Lines, after-images, apparitions. They didn't matter.

I was going to finish this. The hero always saved the day in the end.

There was a wail as a light appeared. Not red, but white.

It bathed the whole world, making everything pale and fade.

Brighter and brighter it grew until there was only the light.

And then there was nothing.

* * *

“Alright, has everyone made up their mind?”

“Yes,” the children responded in chorus. The teacher smiled, it wasn’t a mystery to what their answers would be, but it was still important to go over.

“Great, then who would like to go first?” She had barely finished her question before a hand shot up. “Yes, Taylor, what would you like to be when you grow up?”

The girl broke out into a wide grin. “A hero!”

* * *

“Hey.”

Taylor looked up from her sandwich. A pretty red-haired girl sat across from her.

“I like your lunchbox,” the girl said, pointing.

Taylor grinned. Her Alexandria lunchbox, it was just about the coolest thing in the world. “Thanks! My dad got it for me cause he knows I love Alexandria,” Taylor said, barely pausing to breathe, “She’s my favorite hero and I wanna be just like her when I grow up.”

Taylor stopped to fill her lungs and the girl offered a shy smile, “Yeah, I like her too.”

“You do? Cool! Hey, you wanna be friends?”

The girl stared for a moment, shocked. Her ears were turning a red to match her hair.

Taylor bit her lip, she had rushed it again. Mom was always telling her to slow down. It was a shame because the girl seemed nice - she even liked Alexandria, too.

“Uh,” the girl spoke up, “Okay.”

Taylor’s grin came back full force. “Really?”

The girl was a beet red, but she nodded her head firmly. "Yeah, really."

Taylor didn’t pause for a second, she stuck out her hand the way she had seen her father had a hundred times before. “I’m Taylor!”

For a moment, all the girl did was stare uncomprehending, long enough that Taylor wondered if she had changed her mind.

Finally, however, the girl took her hand.

“Emma," she said.

* * *

The ceiling came into focus, tiled and sterile.

I was alive.

I tried to look down, but my chin caught against something hard. A neck brace, I could make out a bit of the tan material at my collarbone. Further down, I was covered in a blanket and a man lying face-first against my knees.

Danny. I sucked my teeth in. Dealing with him was a pain and yet there was little I could do about him.

I glanced around the room, looking for anything else, but found little. I was in the hospital obviously, always stark and utilitarian, but I noticed I had gotten one of the nicer private rooms. A mounted TV, a little couch and coffee table for visitors and luxury of luxuries, a personal bathroom.

Someone had shelled out for me and I was pretty sure it wasn't Danny.

I tried sitting up a little straighter, moving as gently as possible, but even that little bit was enough for Danny to wake. He jolted, head swirling like a lighthouse beam for a moment before he fixated on me.

"Taylor!" He gasped. He took my hand and squeezed it. "Thank God, you're awake."

"Hey," I replied, my voice surprising me. It was hoarse and weak, almost ghost-like.

That was enough to get tears to spring in Danny's eyes. "You had me worried there for a sec, kiddo."

I grimaced. I fucking _hated_ that nickname. Infantilizing with its meaning and sing-song ending, it wore at my patience the way only Danny could.

"What happened to me?" I asked, changing the subject.

Danny winced. "A car crash. Aside from that, I'm not sure. The doctor said you got a bad concussion and you might not be able to remember much." He looked at me with a tightness in his eyes, "Guess he was right."

Right. The van. I chewed on the inside of my cheek, irritation boiling beneath my skin. A mistake worthy of _her_. Although I had mitigating circumstances, after all there was...

"Was that it?" I asked.

Danny let out a small laugh. "God, I hope so."

No one had told him about the bullet wound then.

“How long was I out?”

“The whole night. But you’re here now, you made it.”

I frowned and glanced out the window and saw a grey sky just beginning to brighten up. A lot of lost time, but there was a chance the Undersiders were still at the freighter.

Danny smiled, still choking back tears. "I'm just so glad you're okay. I don't know what I would have done with myself if I had lost you too."

I didn’t respond and Danny just stared at me, a doofy smile on his face. He cared, that was _something_. But it had never been enough and it had always been too late. He reached up with his hand and I tensed, but he only stroked my hair. He cleared a few strands from my face and smiled as it cleared up.

"You should get some rest, kiddo," - I grit my teeth - "I'll be right here."

I sucked my breath in. "Actually, Da- dad. I've got another question."

"Sure thing, whatever you need."

"Who paid for this room?" I asked.

"Taylor, don't worry about the money, whatever it costs -"

"You don't know," I cut him off. My annoyance was already mounting.

His smile faltered. "The doctors assured me that our insurance was covering everything. I didn't see any reason to argue with them."

A lie, an obvious one at that. Whether by desperation or idiocy, Danny hadn't seen it. To give him some credit, it was probably the former.

However, the implication was clear. There were only two people who could've paid for the room, convinced the doctors to lie to Danny and actually cared for my well-being. Armsmaster and Triumph.

I glanced around the room again and found what I was looking for. Set on my bedside table next to the telephone was a non-descript business card for the hospital. What distinguished the card from any other was the hand-written phone number circled in blue. It was an unnecessary reminder, I had already memorized that number.

But I couldn't call it now, not while I was stuck with Danny. Going off what he had said, he still had no idea about my cape activities. Armsmaster and Triumph were being conscious of that - surprisingly so given how fucked-up things had gotten. Or maybe they were just allowing me the courtesy of telling him myself.

I frowned as I looked at Danny. I couldn't tell him anything. I had known it since day one. Even _she_ had understood Danny would only ever be a burden.

"Dad?" I said deliberately, "Can you do me a favor?"

"Of course, kiddo."

"Can you leave me alone for a while?"

He flinched as if I had slapped him. Any trace of a smile gone.

"Just for a few minutes," I added, "If you could wait outside."

"I..." he swallowed before forcing out another smile - this one strained on his cheeks, "Ok, sure. Whatever you need, I'm your guy."

I didn't correct him. "Thanks."

He got up, offering me one more smile before he walked out, closing the door with exaggerated care. I watched from the other side through the eyes of a fly on the wall of the hallway. Through it, I could see Danny lingering at the door, his hand still on the knob, his head bowed.

He wasn't eavesdropping, at least not intentionally. Just dragging his feet.

I waited him out and eventually he retreated, slumping onto a bench along the wall. Still keeping an eye on him with the fly, I took the phone and dialed the number on the card.

The call picked up on the second ring, but no sound came through.

"It's me," I said.

There was a silence, as if the line had been dead all along.

Finally, he spoke. "Good to hear your voice. You had us worried there for a while."

Armsmaster, I let out a sigh of relief. The curt, but firm delivery of his words were just as recognizable as his voice itself.

"Listen," I said, gathering myself, "I found the Undersider's base. I..." couldn't take them down myself "... followed them there and they were the ones who shot me. If you -"

"Address?" Armsmaster cut in, all business.

"One of the abandoned freighters at the boat graveyard. Its prow is run aground, there's a hole cut out of it that you can walk into."

"Got it. We'll investigate. Good work."

I could hear the roar of a motorcycle engine in the background and I couldn’t help it, I smiled. Even if I hadn’t captured the Undersiders myself, I could still help.

"That said," Armsmaster went on in an even tone, "We need to have a serious talk when I get back. You've broken a lot of rules, written and unwritten and there _will_ be consequences."

And just like that the glow was gone. He was fussing over the details as if they meant anything. At the end of the day all that mattered was whether or not the Undersiders were behind bars.

"Do you remember anything about your accident?" Armsmaster asked.

I frowned. "Only bits and pieces," I admitted.

"Hm. Talk to your father."

I scoffed, but Armsmaster either didn't hear or didn't care.

"We can't play undercover agent any longer, you need to tell him you're a parahuman. But only that. Everything you've done so far has been as an independent hero, understand?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but paused. He wasn't asking me. No, this was an order. And the severity of it set off alarm bells in my head. Something was wrong.

"That was always going to be the story," I said carefully.

"Correct," Armsmaster went on tonelessly, "But you need to keep it in mind." His voice grew tighter. "There are going to be people asking about these past few days and we need to be careful."

"What are you talking about?"

"PRT agents are heading towards your location. The hospital has reported you as a likely cape and the agents will ask you a number of questions. Again, I recommend you speak to your father before that happens."

An awkward conversation with a time limit. I grit my teeth. "They outed me."

"It's standard procedure, don't take it personally. You have a big future ahead of you. Don't let this moment ruin that."

His tone was maddeningly patronizing, but there was no point in snapping at him. There was still something he wasn't saying.

"And what are they going to question me about?" I asked. 

"Who you are, what you've done, what you think of joining the Protectorate and whether or not you've met with any members before."

"And you want me to say I've never met you."

"No, you can tell them you've met Triumph and me two days ago. But that's the only time we met or spoke to one another. And we only ever spoke of the recruitment process, understand?"

A lie. The breath went out of me. It wasn't the lie that hurt. It was the fact that he needed it.

"I know this isn't what we planned, but there is a _relentless_ bureaucracy out there and I am _trying_ to protect you from it. Before I can do anything however, I need you to tell me you understand."

"You're trying to cover up what I did," I said, my voice low.

" _Taylor_ ," he said and the sharpness of my name caught me by surprise, "Listen to me. You are smart, resourceful and you have a lot of potential. You would make a great addition to the Brockton Bay Wards. I can do a lot to help you, but you need to _let me_."

In the background of the phonecall was the purr of his motorcycle and the faint hiss of wind. With my second set of eyes I could spy Danny, head bowed as he sat, hands clasped together like a man confessing his sins.

There was still something missing. Something Armsmaster wasn't saying.

"What happened while I was out?" I asked, feeling for the first time like _her_.

"You should ask your fa-"

_"Tell me!"_ I shouted.

Silence on the line.

I was about to yell again when finally, he spoke.

"It was the car crash."

My blood ran cold.

"The other driver."

His voice seemed far away.

"He didn't make it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was late for a variety of reasons. I won't bore you with the details. Next chapter (which is NOT the last) should not take as long.


	10. Declaration

### A Day Ago

A man looked over the top his newspaper to give me an unhappy glare. I met his eyes unflinchingly. There were only a few people in the diner, but if this guy had singled me out for some reason then I certainly wasn't going to back down.

The phone rang for a fourth time and finally I remembered that it was _her’s_. The one Tattletale gave her. I smiled at the thought.

I added a fly on a window to my awareness and through its eyes, saw Tattletale. She was pacing in her room, cradling a swollen arm and pinching the phone between her cheek and shoulder. The other Undersiders sported similar wounds and were tending to them, while Grue secured the tape at the edges of the door. Tattletale was muttering something, but the fly's ears weren't strong enough to make out her words. That was fine, after all that was what the phone was for.

On the fifth ring, I picked up.

"Yes?" I said sweetly.

"Call. Them. Off." Tattletale said, biting through the words.

"Now why would I do that?"

"You don't even know, do you?" Her voice vibrated with rage. "Idiot, _I know your name, I know your face_. You attack us at our home, you really think we won't do the same?"

I pursed my lips. A waitress walked by with a full coffee pot and I waved her down, motioning to my cup as I spoke. "Sure, you might. That just means I get to hound you harder."

"You- what- augh!" Tattletale screamed incoherently and I had to pull away a little from the phone. "You don't make any fucking sense!"

The waitress started to pour the coffee, but I shook my head, pointing to the teabag.

She gave me a little frown, but nodded in understanding and turned away.

"I can tell you're confused,” I said calmly, “But here's something simple for you: Give yourselves up."

She let out a heated breath and I could practically hear her teeth grind. When her voice returned, she spoke quickly. "All that about your father being in danger? The crying, the fainting, the whole YT shit, were you just making it all up?"

"Of course and you fell for it beautifully, Ms. Lie Detector."

"Bullshit," she replied instantly, "You have a trick. It's made you fucked up. The fainting?"

I frowned and didn't say anything. She was closer to the mark than I would have liked. But if I didn't say anything then there wouldn't be any lie to pick up.

"The fainting, then," Tattletale said satisfied, "You fuck with your brain somehow. Is it part of your powers?"

The waitress reappeared this time with a pot full of boiling water.

"I won't repeat myself a third time,” I said, trying to redirect her attention, “Give yourselves up. I've been going easy on you so far."

"Holy shit, wow!" Tattletale burst into laughter. Full-blown hand-over-mouth snickering. "It's not even the powers that did this to you, you're just _that fucked up._ "

My fist clenched and I took control of a handful of wasps and sent them out of the hideout. As they flew, they began to pump out the alarm pheromone that would draw and enrage their brethren.

The waitress poured the hot water into my cup and asked me very softly, "You need anything else, sweetie?"

I shook my head even as I spoke, "You know you're absolutely _fucked_ , right?"

The waitress' eyes opened wide and she very quickly pulled away.

"What some bugs? Squashable,” Tattletale said, still giggling, “You? You've got _issues_. Like legit psycho issues. You shouldn't even be out here, you know that right? They send capes like you to the Birdcage or worse to the asylum."

My messenger wasps had emptied their pheromone sacs, but I could still get the same result with a little reprogramming. I delved deeper into their minds. It was impossible to accurately translate their thoughts to a human's, but I could get the rough grasp of one of their most basic instincts. To the wasp the alarm pheromone meant "attack outsiders", but with a slight adjustment I could set it to "attack wasps." With that simple tweak, my handful of wasps (a dozen total) began to turn on their comrades, gutting them with their stingers. And with every dead wasp, more of the alarm pheromone spread.

I couldn't control as many bugs as _she_ could, but there were work-arounds. My control was more fine-tuned and now that this handful of wasps had been reprogrammed, I could shift my focus on a batch back inside the hideout.

"So is it schizophrenia?" Tattletale said, her tone entirely too cheerful, "Or maybe something more innocent like amnesia? No, that doesn't fit at all. No, it's something really fucked up."

The Undersiders had holed up in Tattletale’s room. I had ruined their lunch, but that was it. They had been able to react annoyingly well and the worst of their injuries seemed to be Tattletale’s arm. I pressed my squad of wasps against the tape in the cracks of the door, poked at it with their stingers, but they couldn’t even penetrate. There was nearly an inch of industrial duct tape at the cracks. They had completely overdone it, but it was more than effective. I was blocked out save for a few mites and flies.

“Wait, I think I got it,” Tattletale gloated, “Multiple personality disorder, right?”

How the fuck did she get that. I stood up, dropping a ten dollar bill and walked out. I didn’t put the phone down however. She was wrapped up in trying to figure me out, getting closer than I would like, but nonetheless, she was distracted.

“That explains everything doesn’t it? The fainting, the mood swings, the _initial_ difficulty in figuring you out.” Tattletale wasn’t really speaking to me, more along the lines of thinking aloud. “However now that I _have_ figured out how fucked up you are, well it’ll be easy to pull you apart.”

The streets weren’t crowded at this time of day and I took to them at a brisk pace.

“Pull me apart?” I sneered, “By calling me names?”

“Exactly,” Tattletale replied cheerfully, “See people like you think they have it all figured out. You’ve painted us as ‘acceptable targets’ because of whatever bullshit moral code you have, but when we fight back, when we do the same things you do to us, you take _offense_ to it. ‘How dare this person attack my family after I attacked theirs!’”

“I don’t negotiate with _criminals_ ,” I growled, “And I won’t be cowed with threats.”

“Because you don’t care! A normal person would at least _consider_ the possibility. They have a healthy fear for the safety of their loved ones. But not you. You didn't hesitate one iota when I threatened your dad."

I crossed a street, jaywalking past a speeding car. "I know bravery must be a strange concept for someone like you, Tattletale. You're a coward."

"And you're a sociopath!"

I rolled my eyes.

"See," Tattletale went on, "We can do the name-calling thing if you really want, but I guarantee I'll win every time, because you know what? The truth hurts. You're a sociopath who doesn't like being called one because it makes you think of the 'bad guys'. And despite how little you care for anyone else around you, you still like to think of yourself as a hero."

The streets were becoming more barren. Faintly, I could hear the buzzing of the wasps.

"But guess what," Tattletale said, "You're not a hero. You're a hypocrite. You'll go through the motions, fight crime, save the kid, do whatever so long as it fits your image of a hero. That's all you really care about, isn't it? The image. So what if the criminal starves or the kid's dad didn't make it so long as people call you a hero."

The wasps wouldn't hurt me not even if I couldn't control them all like she could. They simply knew.

"So yeah, your other personality is okay with being a supervillain, but at least she isn't a fucking _sociopath_. Despite everything else, she actually has a better chance of being a hero than _you_." Tattletale laughed, a mocking bark. "Oh, I bet that little irony pisses you off, right? The idea that your better half might become what you can never be?"

There was a brick on the floor, broken in half. I picked it up and hefted it, testing the weight.

"It must really suck for her being saddled with your psycho ass. I bet this isn’t even the first time you’ve screwed with her. Before you even got powers, right? Wow, just knocks my socks off, a mental break _before_ the trigger event. That’s something special, but it does make me curious, just what happened to make you this fucked up?"

"Last chance," I said, speaking up finally, "Give yourselves up."

She laughed again.

I didn't wait for her next snappy comeback. I threw the brick.

Her laughter turned into a scream as glass shattered. The brick had flown perfectly through her window, leaving a glaring opening into her room.

The swarm rushed forward, eager to fill the open space, stingers at the ready.

It was chaos, the mass of buzzing murder pouring in. I watched from the eyes of a select few wasps. Saw how Regent fell backwards, wildly slapping at his face while Grue was trying to _punch_ his way through the swarm.

Tattletale had reacted a little better than the others, throwing a heavy blanket over her head, but a few wasps had gotten underneath and stung her mercilessly. Hellhound had similarly wrapped her leather jacket around herself and was also protected by two hulking beasts who were running circles around her, snapping at any wasps that drew near. Annoyingly the wasps didn't have the presence of mind to focus on Hellhound, they stung the beasts again and again to no effect.

"Bitch!"

I didn't need the phone to hear Tattletale's shouts and I smiled. Resorting to basic insults, how quickly she lost her cool.

"Dogs! Window!"

I blinked for a moment, not comprehending.

"PLUG WINDOW WITH DOGS!"

Hellhound shouted something and one of the beasts bounded towards the window. It slammed against the frame and broke the rest of the glass, but that didn't matter. Its flesh covered the opening entirely.

The wasps stung at the beast's hide again and again, but it was pointless. The beast didn't even flinch.

I frowned. There was still a good number of wasps inside the room. Not as many as I would have liked - if I had her powers I could've forced them _all_ in at once - but it was still a sizable number. The wasps were stirred up into a bloodlust and they used their stingers relentlessly.

At the same time, I could feel them as they were being snuffed out one by one. Regent was down on the ground, but Grue and Hellhound were brutally thorough in their extermination. Tattletale, damn her, had managed to protect herself remarkably well. The wasps hadn't had the sense to tear her blanket to shreds and her wounds were at best superficial.

The Undersiders were down one of their members, but it was clear I couldn't hope for much more than that. There was no chance of me fighting them one on three.

I yawned, feeling the weariness starting to infect me.

The lucky bastards. I could finish them off if I only I had another hour or two. As it was, I was closing in on my old record and I was wildly out of place.

I turned away, spitting in disgust. If I was to keep up the charade, I couldn't waste another second. I had to get back to the hotel, rearrange everything and write myself a fake note from Rory.

I yawned again. It would be close, but I could do it. Tattletale would say anything to get under my skin, but I knew better. Even if it meant dragging my other half kicking and screaming, I would be a hero.

* * *

* * *

* * *

I lowered the phone, pressing the receiver against my chest. There had to be a mistake. Or maybe I had misunderstood what Armsmaster had said. It just didn't make any sense.

I pressed a fist into my skull. The knuckles dug into my brow as if they could flatten it all out. The "other driver". Armsmaster had been so fucking _vague_. Who the hell was the other driver? Maybe they had it coming. Maybe I did the world a service.

If he was driving in that rundown neighborhood then he couldn't have been up to any good. Running drugs or on the prowl for prostitutes or whatever vices people tried to play off as harmless.

Either way, it wasn't even my fault. It was the Undersiders who had done this. Luring my more gullible side into their rusted death trap. If anyone was to blame for this, it was them. I would have never even been in that van if they hadn't shot me. If they hadn't existed.

My stomach turned violently and I was forced to the side of the bed as I gagged. A clear yellow slime leaked from my lips with not much else to follow it up. I coughed and a thread sputtered out. I wanted to puke, a real gut-wrenching puke, but there was absolutely nothing in me.

I wiped at my mouth and coughed again, trying to fight back the next wave of nausea. This wasn't me. I didn't do shit like this. That was her.

Her failure had _infected_ me. Or worse, she had _sabotaged_ me. Not out in the world where it mattered, but more insidiously from the inside of my head.

As the thought crystallized in my mind, I grew surer by the second. It was her fault. Everything always had been. I was the hero and she was the villain, that was the way it meant to be.

It had been her at the wheel in those last moments. I didn't remember much, but that only strengthened the idea. I had felt the sleepiness midway through my drive, no doubt her influence creeping back into control.

It was her.

I raised the phone to my ear and Armsmaster's voice returned.

"-hear me? Taylor?"

"I'm here," I said.

"It was an accident, Taylor. Extenuating circumstances. It wasn't your fault."

"Yeah, I know," I said.

"Good," he sighed with relief, "Listen, the PRT will ask you all sorts of questions, it's important that you stay consistent. You need to tell them that you're just a fresh independent hero with only the best of intentions and you're willing to make up for this incident. If you do all that -"

"Nah," I said.

"- they'll be... what?"

"Nah."

"Taylor, _listen to me_ , you don't know what you're dealing with."

"I do, it's simple. I've got nothing to justify to them. You said it yourself, it's not my fault."

"I. Ah. Ugh!" Armsmaster let out a strangled cry. It sounded so childish. A temper tantrum. "Taylor! This is _not_ -"

I hung up.

I took a moment to appreciate the silence. Breathing deep through my nostrils, filling my body with clean air. With every inhale and exhale, the tension melted away.

I was best like this. When I had a goal. When I knew what I had to do.

I needed to move forward. To rid myself of her once and for all. I had thought that I could guide her subtly from behind-the-scenes. She was a coward and I had hoped that once I set us on the path of becoming a hero, she would have realized that there was no point in resisting. She had always folded under pressure before, so I pressured her.

I had been naive. For the two of us to agree on something, to unite on an issue, it was simply impossible. In a way, I had underestimated her - she was a coward, but there was a surprising stubbornness there as well.

I could not guide her. Could not influence her - not how I wanted to at least. So long as there were two of us, disaster would follow.

"Hey," I said aloud.

There was no response, but I hadn't expected one. She had never remembered what I had done, though I could for her.

Still, even if she couldn't remember, I knew she was there.

"The Undersiders betrayed you. Danny doesn't understand you. And Emma hates you."

I let my hands fall flat to my sides, palms up.

"You deserve it. Every last bit. The betrayal, the bullying and the loneliness, it's all your fault."

I thought I felt my finger twitch, but it could have been my imagination. I pressed on.

"I _know_ you're there, but _why_? Why even bother? No one wants you around, no one likes you and no one ever will. That's what you wanted, isn't it? The Undersiders were your last chance and they tried _to kill you_. There's no hope for you there."

I stared at my motionless hand.

"Let's see," I said, thinking aloud, "Hellhound actively wants you dead, Regent was okay with you being dead, Grue literally shot you and... ah." I smiled. "Tattletale."

There was no _physical_ reaction, but I felt _something_. I had struck a nerve.

"You think she's your friend."

She wanted to speak up. I could feel it, but my grip was firm.

"I'm going to kill her."

I gasped as pain blossomed between my temples. A wedge suddenly appearing to drive its way through my brain.

Definitely more stubborn that I thought.

"I don't believe in killing," I whispered tightly, hand on my head trying to push back the pain, "Not lightly at least. I spared her when I had the chance, but you've made it clear that's no longer an option."

The wedge drove deeper, but I pressed on, my voice barely louder than a whisper.

"She's a criminal, thief, blackmailer and at the end of the day, a _thug_. All that pales in comparison to _you_. She's only going to die because you need to."

I closed my eyes and saw a litany of stars and white flashes. This was beyond a headache or migraine, this was a drop of hell in my skull.

"It's your fault," I said hoarsely, "Just faint and run away like you always do."

The wedge began to pound, almost vibrating like a jackhammer. The only thing keeping me going was the assurance that she was going through the same thing as me.

And no way was I going to lose to her.

"Give up already. Give up and hide."

My teeth clenched, the wedge in my head slamming against bone. I had the insane thought of just finishing the job. Just crack my skull open, pop it like a balloon with too much gas in it. It would be easy, one small explosion before instant release.

I pried an eye open and let out a strangled cry. The light was blindingly bright, like the sun itself pressed against my face. I squeezed my eyes shut, but reached out at the same time. I wanted to dive into the fiery abyss. To burn up until there was nothing left of me but ash. Anything was better than this. Anything.

Until finally the pressure dropped. I gasped, sinking back into the bed even as pain still lingered in the cracks. But the wedge was gone and that was all that mattered.

I was breathing heavily, but I had done it. I had beaten her. Once a coward, always a coward. I managed a feeble smile despite the lingering ache.

She wouldn't be bothering me for a while. Not after that. I allowed myself a minute to do nothing but sit back and breathe. I needed that much.

But no more than that. I slowly sat up, mindful of my various injuries.

There was no time to waste, I had a villain to kill.


	11. Past, Present and Future

As I limped my way towards the door, I took stock of my situation. I was still for all intents and purposes, injured. I had taken off my neck brace which was fine so long as I didn’t move my head too quickly (I tried not to think about spinal injuries), but the stitches in my side were a little harder to shrug off. My left side was painfully stiff and I was walking like I had a peg leg.

And to add insult to injury, they had taken my costume. I was left with nothing but the patient's gown and my underpants. Not exactly something I could just walk out in.

I had the eyes of a few bugs in the area. Three watching each major entrance into the hospital, three on my floor, scoping out my path to the elevator, and finally one watching Danny.

He was still sitting on the bench, hands folded under his chin. His eyes were closed, but I could tell he wasn't asleep, his brow kept tightening and loosening. I knew the moment I opened the door, he would notice and try to stop me.

Any attempt to convince him would be pointless, any conversation about my powers would wind up in circles. I knew Danny, he would break before he bent. Armsmaster was heading towards the Undersider's hideout, the PRT were coming for me and I only had a few hours at most before the exhaustion took hold of me again. Danny, as always, would only slow me down.

I began flashing through a variety of bugs to get a snapshot of the whole floor. I was in the middle of a hallway, flanked by rooms identical to mine. A few were occupied, but most were empty. Nothing useful there.

I spotted a number of fire alarms, but I quickly put the idea out of my head. Even if I could somehow find the leverage with the bugs to pull one, what exactly would that accomplish? Danny would rush into the room first thing, looking for me.

I grit my teeth. There was no way around it then.

A fly zipped past Danny's ear, a buzz that veered in like a razor. Like anyone else would, he flinched. A second fly made a pass at his ears and he swatted at it, cursing under his breath. All the while, he didn't notice the spider crawling up his back.

The flies continued to harrass Danny and his cursing and swatting grew gradually more wild. It was only a few flies, but they were unrelenting, only really noticeable when they zipped past his ears. Finally, the spider had climbed atop his head, it balanced precariously in his hair, hanging on for dear life as Danny tried (and failed) to fend off the flies.

To anyone looking from afar, it would have seemed as though one of the mental patients had escaped. He was attacking the air, growing redder in the face by the minute, his swears all muttered and unintelligible.

The spider dropped down and landed perfectly on his nose, its legs hooked on his glasses. Danny yelped and sweeped a hand over his nose from right to left, knocking the spider off along with his glasses. The glasses went flying, skidding far off down the hallway.

"Fuck!" He half-shouted, half-whispered, loud enough for me to hear. He never swore in front of me.

I let up with the flies, but it took him a moment to realize it. He was left breathing hard, entirely too worked up for such a "little" problem. Grunting, he adjusted his shirt and smoothed his hair back. A little more composed, he walked away to try and find his glasses.

I cracked the door open and slipped out. Danny's back was to me and his focus was on the floor. I eased the door closed and quietly as I could, limped the other way. It was slow going, my left side was stiff to move and yet I had to be careful not to make too much noise. Danny was only a few feet away from me, though he had resorted to stooping, desperately trying to find his glasses. I had the spider drag them just a little farther.

I finally made it to a turn and took the corner immediately. One hurdle passed. I refocused the bug’s on finding me some clothes.

It didn’t take them long. The hospital had a sizable patient population and plenty of those people had to change from their ordinary clothes to the gowns. I shuffled to the closest suitable match, an elderly lady asleep in her bed, her change of clothes hung up in a closet. A rosy red sweater, pleated skirt and wool leggings. Not exactly the most fashionable clothes, but sadly enough it was an improvement from my grey hoodie-sweatpants combo - I took it.

The elderly lady snoozed peacefully, completely unaware of me. It was better that way, there was no way to make to her understand how important this was. Once I finished dressing, I exited the room and made my way to the elevators. A pair of nurses hurried past me, not sparing me a second glance and I limped on. My gait was stilted and awkward, I wouldn’t be much for a on-the-foot chase, but that had never been the plan.

I made it to the elevator just as the doors slid open. I stepped in, squeezing between a mix of patients, visitors and doctors. The elevator was fairly large, wide and long enough for two gurneys to comfortably fit, but it was still crowded with ten people.

Again, I didn't draw any attention, just another visitor in the hospital. I took solace in that little blessing - the hospital hadn't outed me to the world. The doors shut closed and the elevator began to descend.

The PRT agents would arrive to my room to find it empty. Or Danny would kick up a fuss once he checked himself. Either way, I would be long gone before they would be able to do anything. They would get my father, my name, face, blood-type, social security number and so on. But they wouldn't have _me_.

Not yet at least. Armsmaster had talked about the "bureaucracy" and I was pretty sure I knew what he meant. They would question me, lock me down, prevent me from doing what I needed to do. So rarely did the pencil-pushers understand that certain things simply _needed to be done_. So long as-

The elevator dinged and the doors opened to reveal a pretty red-headed girl.

Every thought in my head stopped dead in its tracks. Even the presence of the insects vanished for that instant as I was left staring at Emma.

Her hair was swept back in a ponytail and for the first time ever, I saw her wearing a baggy hoodie. It wasn't as ratty as the kind I wore - like everything, she made it look good - but it was still strange to see her in something so _basic_. Her makeup was missing as well and without it, she looked pallid and worn.

She stepped into the elevator, pressed a number and then turned her back to me.

I started to exhale, but caught myself. I had to make it natural. I didn't know when I had even started holding my breath, but I couldn't just let it all out at once. With conscious effort, I normalized my breathing. Through the nostrils, in and out, not too big, not too small, totally normal.

Another obstacle. One I hadn't expected here of all places, but one I would surmount nonetheless.

I watched the back of her head, ready for her to whirl around and start slinging insults at me. I had weathered it for years, a few minutes would be nothing.

 _Ding_ went the elevator and Emma was forced to scooch back as more people piled in. She bumped into my arm and I stiffened as she mumbled a "Sorry."

My hands tightened into fists. A familiar feeling bubbled to the surface, the mindless rage, the cry for vengeance. I could grab her by the hair and smash her face into the doors, knock out her teeth and pummel her skull until it was pulp.

The possibility and capability were there. Resisting the temptation was my test, one that I had overcome for years.

But Emma hadn't even _noticed me_. My fists shook and I had to clamp them to my sides to still them. She hated me. Bullied and tormented me for as long as I could remember. She couldn't just stop.

The elevators doors dinged open one more time, revealing the hustle and bustle of the lobby. Emma and all the other passengers dutifully filed out.

"You getting off, kid?"

I looked up and saw a doctor eyeing me with concern. People were already moving to board the vacant elevator.

"Yeah," I mumbled and stepped off, bumping past a few eager bodies.

Emma had disappeared, the lobby wasn't crowded, but it was busy. People going this way and that. I could have tracked her down easily, my bugs were ready and waiting, but there was no point. There was no time to dwell on old punishments.

I limped my way out of the hospital and as the brisk morning air greeted me, I let out a long sigh of relief.

* * *

Armsmaster wouldn't find the Undersiders. I must have been delirious if I expected him to be able to catch them after such a huge gap in time. There was little chance the Undersiders would be at the boat graveyard after letting me escape. And even if they had made such a mistake, Armsmaster had already proven himself incapable of catching them by himself. It was precisely why he had needed my help.

I walked into the library and headed straight for the computers. I didn't have my library card, but I had memorized my login information and I signed on without issue.

There was no point in searching door-by-door. Even with my powers, I couldn't brute-force a solution out of a city of millions. I would have to lure them out.

I waited patiently as the machine loaded up, humming and beeping all the while. I could threaten their identities, tell them that I would leak their names and faces to all the big news stations. But Armsmaster already knew all that, I would be stepping on his toes more than theirs.

No, the only real option was to give them a target. Bait. Me.

The desktop appeared on the screen and I immediately opened the browser to Parahumans Online. I had already begun formulating my words when I saw an alert at the top of my screen. A message.

I clicked it.

> **Subject:** Hey
> 
> T or YT or whatever. We're offering a truce. We can't keep fighting like this and I know you can't either. As a sign of good faith, let's meet up where it began. I'll be waiting alone and unarmed.
> 
> Tt.

I sat back in my chair and let out a long sigh. Where it began. The rooftop.

It was a trap. That much was obvious. Alone? Not a chance. Unarmed? They were capes. I didn't doubt for a moment that the instant I showed myself, they would pounce.

It was reassuring in a way. No need to hunt them down, they were already waiting for me. And if my other side saw Tattletale betraying her face-to-face, well maybe I wouldn't even need to kill Tattletale. Maybe the coward in me would just shrivel up and die on her own.

I shut the computer down and sat back in my chair. No need to reply, it would only serve to tip them off. I reached out to my bugs, a plan beginning to form in my mind.

I smiled. If the Undersiders thought they could get the drop on me then they would be in for a nasty surprise.


	12. Chapter 12

On the rooftop, sitting at the edge was Tattletale. Alone as she promised, unarmed as far as I could tell. She had her costume on, practically announcing herself to the world.

I watched her from afar, tapping into my network of bugs and cycling through them to get the full view of the surroundings. I knew it was a trap and what my bugs were telling me began to confirm that.

A room in one building, two in another, and so on, each was sealed off and devoid of insect life. They were black boxes in my consciousness and they occurred for blocks around the meeting place. My range of control was the same as my other half's, but my sense was far farther than hers. The black-box rooms continued out as far as a seven block radius.

They had been thorough. Windows plastered and gaps covered with electrical. Not impossible for my bugs to get through, but too many for me to get through them all in the few hours I had.

If I wanted to get close enough to do anything to her, I would have to enter that hive of uncertainty.

I sighed, letting my head rest against the window of the bus. The glass vibrated uncomfortably beneath me, but it was cool like a smooth drink and I let out a small sigh of relief. The bus would stop near the rooftop soon.

I would be plunging headfirst into the trap. There was no other choice, I couldn't afford to wait. Before the PRT caught up to me, unconsciousness would. _She_ was still there, just waiting to swoop in and seize control from me. This was my longest time awake.

The neighborhood was bare, but it wasn't _empty_. There were stil civilians to blend in with, alleys the Undersiders wouldn't be able to keep track of. More than that, I couldn't imagine them patrolling the streets to look out for me. The black box rooms were undoubtedly decoys. Gaps in my awareness more to make me nervous than to pose a real threat.

Given all that, even with all the blind spots, I could reasonably expect the Undersiders to only be in a one block radius of the roof. More than enough room for me to get in range for a black widow bite.

The bus rattled to a stop, air hissing as the doors popped open. I pushed myself up and limped off the bus. The sun was still high in the sky, shining brightly almost like a spotlight illuminating me. I shook the feeling off and began my hobbled walk towards the meeting point.

That walk lasted all of five minutes before there was the crash as one of those black boxes erupted through the window, glass and brick shattering as a hulking beast burst from inside. It was four-legged and enormous, bulbous flesh surrounding it.

The beast dropped like a brick and landed with an earth-shaking thud that made me stumble. As I fought to steady myself, I heard a voice.

“You’re fucking dead.”

Hellhound. She was actually _riding_ the thing. She had her costume on, a simple plastic mask of a snarling bulldog and her leather jacket.

“How did you know where to wait for me?” I asked, buying myself time as I stepped back. This was the absolute worst case scenario.

“We’ve got you figured out,” Hellhound chuckled, a nasty sound. “Guess you’re not as smart as you thought.”

Figured me out? Was that Tattletale’s power? It matched up with what she had said before the other day. I bit my lip and backed another step. Options, I needed options. The streets had a few bystanders before, but now it had cleared in an instant. The good people of Brockton Bay knew well enough when to get out of the way. It was just me and Hellhound and I could see where she got her name.

“I thought this was supposed to be a _peaceful_ talk,” I said, feigning innocence, still backing up.

The beast matched my step and bared its fangs with a low growl. Its mouth was massive. As big as my chest. I tried not to imagine how the two would fit.

“ _Bullshit_ ,” she growled, “Twice you try to backstab us.”

I was pretty sure they started it the second time, but I didn’t bring that point up. “I’m here to put that behind us,” I said, a shot in the dark, “We don’t have to fight, Rachel.”

She stiffened at the sound of her name.

“You…” she growled, her shoulders beginning to tremble, “You’re so fucking dead.” She didn’t waste any more words. Grabbing a tuft of flesh of the beast, she pointed at me and screamed, “Kill!”

The dog - I could see it was a dog now, twisted and grown to monstrous proportions with bulbous flesh - bounded forward, its jaws split open.

Time was the major factor here and it seemed to slow, my mind racing to process every detail. I could see strings of drool hanging off fangs as long as my hand. Time was my weakness, time was how Tattletale had pinpointed me. If she had figured me out as well as she claimed, she would have known that I couldn’t drive my own car and had no allies to rely on. In that case than the fastest way for a fifteen year old girl to get somewhere was to take the bus.

Stupid. An idiot’s mistake.

That said, I hadn’t come _completely_ unprepared.

I threw myself to the side and tore my skirt off, unleashing a nest of hornets. The skirt was wool, hard to get through and what should have been an open end was spider web stitched like a net to keep them in. There were too many for me to completely control, but they would never hurt me. Still, they were quite eager to get out.

The dog was nearly atop me when the hornets shot out of my open skirt, half of them went straight into the maw of the dog. It flinched instantly, the growl turned into a strangled gasp. If I was lucky, maybe it would choke to death. In the meantime, its momentum hadn’t slowed an inch.

Momentum carried the dog forward and it clipped my leg as I dived away. It was surprisingly painless. I crashed to the pavement and in the next moment, scrambled to my feet.

The dog was still hacking, a familiar sound for any pet owner - it was trying to throw up. A split-second vulnerability.

I took control of a dozen hornets, the few that hadn’t been swallowed immediately and redirected them to the dog. Its flesh was so thick, there was no way I could pierce it. Instead, I aimed the hornets at the dog’s eyes.

I didn’t wait around to watch, I was already running away. My limp was gone as if it had never been there. I needed to move, so my body moved.

The coughing of the dog was interrupted by a sudden howling. The hornets had struck. Squirming their way past misshapen eyelids to sting deep into the soft tissue.

Hellhound was screaming profanities and curses, but I ignored her. Without her dog, she was just a normal human being.

The cursing was getting closer.

I looked over my shoulder and saw Hellhound charging at me fists raised. Correction: She was a normal human being about twice my size. She could easily pummel me if she got the chance.

The solution then was to not give her a chance.

I pulled my sleeve back, releasing a trio of cockroaches. They couldn’t fly as well as the hornets, but they weren’t the ones chasing me. They turned in the air, adjusting their position. Two were swatted away by Hellhound, but the last landed smack dab in the middle of her face. She let out a flat grunt and shook her head, but the cockroach stayed put.

She started to slow, reaching for her face, but I didn’t give her the time. I turned back, closing the distance between us. Hellhound noticed me a second too late, sticking an arm out to fend me off. Still running, I swung.

My fist collided with her jaw with a crack and it felt like I broke every bone in my hand. Hellhound swayed on her feet, stumbled and finally dropped. I turned again, not slowing down in the least and resumed running to the meeting point.

I could feel a wetness at my side. My stitches had split, no doubt. Still there was no pain, I had my goal in sight. Just three more blocks. Three more blocks and I would be in range. Tattletale hadn't moved from her perch, still up there waiting for me. It would be rude to keep her waiting.

I ran across the street, pushing past a couple curious civilians. They watched me pass and looked back where I had come from, unsure if they should run as well. Without a costume, I looked like just another person.

The streets began to rumble as if a stampede was plowing through the city. The bystanders took the hint and dashed back indoors while I kept running.

It was reinforcements. I cycled through a series of eyes until I found a view of my pursuer. Regent, costumed up, riding atop a dog, he was making his way to the dazed Hellhound.

"Dumbass," I could hear him mutter, "Couldn't wait, huh?"

I hoped he would slow down, stop and tend to his teammate, but of course, he didn't. He was a villain. He rode right past her and the rumbling behind me grew louder.

Regent's power was some sort of body-control. I wasn't sure of the range, but if I got caught in it, I wouldn't stand a chance in a one-on-one fight.

Again, better to not fight him at all. Tattletale was only three blocks away, only a little farther until she was in my range. I was running, but even with my sudden energy, I wasn’t running at full speed. For every ten steps I took, the dog covered that in a single bound. They would catch up unless I slowed them down.

I gathered a group of spiders and wasps and began laying my trap. The spiders found a streetlamp and wound their threads together in a twine. From there the wasps picked the spiders up and flew them across to a lamp on the other side of the road, spooling the silk out so that it spanned the street. The line hung in the air practically invisible at knee-level, perfect tripping height for a monstrous dog.

I turned the corner and gave the line a short hop. Right behind me was the rumbling, the dog turned the corner.

Regent never saw it coming. The dog slammed into the line and completely flipped, throwing Regent clean off. The line tore off the poles, but the damage was done, the dog smashed face-first into the ground, all its forward momentum suddenly directed downward. Regent was a little luckier, he soared past me and slammed against a parked car, crumpling like a rag. I ran past him and he raised his head to groan at me.

Groaning was good, it meant he hadn't died. A bit of tension eased off my shoulders. I had done my research, spider silk was incredibly durable, a single thread could hold up a bowling ball. Regent would wake up feeling like crap, but he would wake up.

Not that I cared. He was still a villain. But I didn't want to make a habit of what I would have to do next.

I crossed the street and Tattletale entered my range. I slowed down, giving myself a moment to breathe. I wouldn't make her suffer. Or at least, not any more than she would have to. No need to terrify, no need for her to even realize until it was too late.

The brown recluse. Most poisonous spider in Northeast America. Its bite was rare enough that it wasn't really known for it, not in the way the black widow was. What followed a bite from a brown recluse varied from blisters to fevers and vomiting. That was in a normal case, slow and drawn-out. I would be a little more merciful than that.

A trio of spiders crawled up along Tattletale's leg. The girl was preoccupied, talking on her phone, completely unaware of the death climbing her back. Her words were hard to make out, I hadn't really directed many bugs her way, didn't want her suspicious. The only ears I had near were the spiders’.

"- that's great -" she said, only bits and pieces making it through to me, "- tell him I'm sorry."

The brown recluses pushed past her hair and found the nape of her neck. The three positioned themselves over her veins. The poison would go straight to her heart.

“Yeah, take care,” she said as she hung up and put away the phone.

The spiders bit into Tattletale's flesh and she gave a little yelp. "Ouch!"

An unbecoming last word, but no one ever really got to choose did they? Tattletale raised her hand and slapped at her neck, knocking the spiders away. It didn't matter it had done its job. Now all I needed to do was wait.

"- better than that," Tattletale was speaking again. "- that easy?"

I frowned. She was talking to me. I was sure of it. It shouldn't have mattered of course. She would say anything to try and whittle at me. That was how she worked. How she nearly pushed me past my limits the first time. I was better off just ignoring her.

But what did it matter. If a dying woman wanted something a little more dignified for her last words, I couldn't deny her that right. I let a fly drift closer to her and her voice magnified in clarity.

"I’ve got one word for you,” she held up a vial, “Antivenom. Your bug bites aren't gonna work."

My eyes closed. Of course, they had been expecting me. There had been plenty of time for them to prepare.

I let out a long breath, pushing the frustration and panic back. So Tattletale had antivenom. I could sting her all I want, but with the proper antivenoms, she’d be immune to all the bugs I could get my hands on in the east coast. I bit my lip, if only I could just swarm her, bleed her dry with a thousand cuts. But quantity was my other half's strength, not mine.

I took a step forward, shaking off the frustration. So Tattletale was immune. What did that change _really_? She was still out there on the rooftop, alone and unarmed. Injured as I was, Tattletale was all talk, I could take her. I would just have to get my hands dirty.

Bile rose in my throat, but I pushed it back down. The churning in my guts was _her_ work, another insidious attempt to sabotage my progress. I would not allow it, I pressed on and walked down the block.

Tattletale was making no attempt to run or hide. The way she held herself, easy on her heels, leaning over the edge of the building. She had another plan in store, that much was obvious. The rooftop was open. Exposed. But I couldn’t sense anything like a sniper. There were no openings, no suspicious man with a gun.

I reached the building and started climbing up the rickety iron stairs of the fire escape. I could still remember the night I first went out in costume. My misguided self eager to make her first big step as a supervillain. She had finally broken that day, given up entirely on school and Emma. She had finally accepted what she really was.

I pulled myself onto the rooftop. Across the other side, Tattletale waited, the back of her elbows resting on the edge. All it would take was one push. One push and this would be all over. No need to do anything else.

"You didn't run," I said instead, "I have to say, I'm impressed."

"Why would I run?" Tattletale smirked, "I called you here for a peaceful talk, didn't I?"

I laughed. "Then Regent and Hellhound were just my welcoming party, is that right?"

"Would you believe me if I said I don't know what you're talking about?"

I pursed my lips. "No."

Tattletale nodded. "Yeah, I wouldn't either. I couldn't talk them out of it. Sorry." She gave me a sheepish grin and a shrug as if to ask "what can you do?"

"You don't seem very worried," I remarked, checking for the hundredth time that she was unarmed.

"I'm fairly confident that you wouldn't hurt them. At least not permanently." She tilted her head. "Was I wrong?"

I frowned. The domino mask didn't cover much, but it still made reading her difficult. She was holding something back, her ease, her confidence, it was coming from something. I just didn't know what yet.

"No," I answered, "Bruised, but they'll be alive and well when the Protectorate comes to pick them up."

"Pick _them_ up. Not including me in that."

"No."

Tattletale threw her head back as if she was stretching, but she held it there. I could see the stretch of her neck, the line of her jugular totally exposed. The spider bites were still visible.

"It's really a beautiful day," she said airily.

I blinked.

"Yeah," I said without looking up, "I suppose it is."

I limped forward, playing up my injury, but she didn't react, still staring up at the sky. I took another step, my fists tightening at my sides. She was totally vulnerable, practically inviting attack. Mentally, I mapped out my movements. Strike her throat, pin her while she's gasping and finish it by snapping her neck. Not entirely painless, but it would be quick. As merciful as I could make it.

"You were right before you know," she said.

I stopped, my awareness expanded to its utmost limits. I could feel through a million insects and none of them reported anything strange. Nothing that could save Tattletale. _Then why was she so calm?_

"I'm _not_ worried." Tattletale lowered her head and as she did, she peeled the domino mask off. We were only six paces away from one another, I could see the individual freckles on her cheeks. "Don't freak out," she said, still perfectly calm, "There's no scheme here. No complicated plot or anything like that. Just you and me."

"You're lying," I snarled, "There's a trick. It won't save you, but I _know_ you're hiding something."

Tattletale smiled. "You're half-right. I am hiding something, but it's not a trick. It's much simpler."

"What are you talking about?"

"I guess you could call it a belief, but that sounds a bit too romantic, doesn't it?" She gave a small laugh, totally at odds with my tension. "Really it's just another guess from someone who's good at guessing."

I sprang forward, injury forgotten and hoisted Tattletale by the neck. I had a good six inches on her and although I was skinny, I had been training for this, developing my strength. I was ready for anything she could throw at me.

"What are you talking about," I growled through grit teeth.

She coughed, a bit of spittle getting on the back of my hand. She wasn't choking, not yet. It couldn't be comfortable though.

"You're not gonna kill me," Tattletale said hoarsely.

I stared at her.

Her lips crooked and quivering, she smiled. "Heroes don't kill."

My skull exploded with pain. A fracturing, all-consuming flame tore at me, cooking me from the inside. Tattletale, the rooftop, the beautiful sky, it all burned up. Vanished. All that was left was the pain, in every pore of my skin, in each cell, in the atoms that held me together.

A force pushed against my stomach and my mouth was forced open as I puked. I was down on my hands and knees, gasping, functioning only subconsciously while the pain ate me up.

It was _her_ , my other half, it had to be. A planned counter-attack, primed to strike just as I was about to seize victory. Tattletale must have known somehow or maybe even contacted her and she had laid this trap for me. The _coward_ , she couldn't even fight me herself. She had to go to a _villain_ for help.

Hate welled in me, hate for Tattletale, hate for _her_ , hate for myself for succumbing to the pain. I gasped again, drool, bile spilling out. Always with the sabotage, the _co_ -

"It's not her."

The voice came through despite all the pain. I couldn't raise my head, couldn't open my eyes, couldn't move except to spit and gasp, but I could still hear Tattletale.

"Taylor. The other Taylor, whatever you call her,” Tattletale coughed, clearing her throat, “She's not doing this."

That didn't make sense. The pain made thinking so hard. Tattletale was lying. No use in listening to her.

"I’m not saying she isn’t watching this, but what you’re going through right _now_? That’s you. _The hero_. But right now, where you are, what you were about to do, _what you've done_ , you're simply not who you wanted to be."

I wanted to die. To end the pain. Shoot me, I begged wordlessly, throw me off the roof, strangle me, kill me. Just please, let the pain stop.

“I imagine this is actually kind of familiar to you. Not just recently, but back when… whenever this started. You’re on the verge of another split.”

Nonsense, lies, bullshit. Why couldn’t she just shut up?

“And I think I know the reason why.”

My lips moved, but there was no breath behind them. Leave me alone. Please.

"I heard about it on the police scanner. The car crash."

No. Shut up. No no no. My hands slipped and I collapsed.

"I'm sorry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very late chapter. Thank you all for your patience.
> 
> The story should be wrapping up within the next 2-3 chapters.


	13. Chapter 13

###### Three Years Ago

"Hello?"

"Emma!" I called out, giddy at the sound of her voice.

"Taylor," Emma replied, "How's summer camp?"

"Hah!" I giggled, my glee growing with each moment. She would be so surprised. "Camp _was_ okay."

"Was?" Emma asked, catching the hint.

"Was," I said again, my legs dangled from where I sat on the stone railing of the stoop. My timing had been a little off, if I had left an hour earlier I could have surprised her at home. Emma's mom had offered to let me wait inside, but I wanted to be the first thing Emma saw when she got back. But then Emma had been gone for longer than I thought and now I could barely restrain myself from spilling it all over the phone.

"Did something happen at the camp?" Emma asked, with just a tinge of concern.

I smiled at the thought. It wouldn't do to worry her, I had put her through too much already. "No, everything's fine. It's just I -"

There was a rumble and crack on Emma's end, it tore through the call like thunder and I stopped short.

"Emma?" I whispered, but she didn't respond. I could hear her breathing, but that was it.

Distantly, like he was a million miles away, I heard Emma's father speak.

"Hold tight."

"Emma!" I cried out and leapt off the stoop. "Emma, what's happening? Are you okay?"

The shattering of glass and a scream answered me.

" _Emma_!" I shouted and took off running.

Moving before thinking. If Emma was coming back from shopping, then they would be coming from the _other_ way. A sick feeling sunk into my stomach as I turned around. Idiot, I cursed myself. Wasting precious seconds while Emma was in trouble.

"Emma, where are you? Please, I'll call the police, just let me know where you..." I looked at the cell phone. The line was dead. Panic strangled me for a moment, but the constant need to _move_ kept me going. Swearing, I smashed my fingers against the keys, nine-nine... fuck. It was so stupid, I wasn't used to the cramped pattern on cell phones. I had borrowed this one from Emma’s mom.

Focus, focus. Still running, I forced my fingers over the buttons. Nine-one-one.

"Nine-one-one, what is your emer-"

"My friend is under attack!" I shouted in between breaths. I had taken a turn out onto one of the wider streets. Passerby stared as I blew past them.

"Honey," the word was injected with seriousness, "Where are you?"

I looked around frantically, picking up on the first names I saw. "Mott street and... and Broome!" I cried, "Just trace this call or something!"

"What's happening? Are you in immediate danger?"

"Not me, my friend, she's... she's..." I had no idea, but I didn't want to say that. Emma was in trouble and I couldn't waste a second. "She's being attacked, just send someone please!"

"Honey, you need to tell me more. I can't -"

"Stop fucking calling me honey!" I screamed, "Just send somebody!"

I shoved the phone into my pocket, leaving the call open and kept running. I just had to pray they would trace it.

Think, I urged myself, think you idiot! Where would Emma's car be? What path did they usually take from the mall? I had rode along on that trip a million times, knew that Emma couldn't resist any opportunity to go shopping. Where would they be? There was a shortcut Alan liked to take, it slipped past all the traffic on the main street. A long alleyway, only wide enough for a single car.

I took a corner fast, nearly crashing into an elderly woman. She shouted in shock, but I ignored her and kept running. If I was right, then I would see Emma on the next turn.

My breath was coming hard and my feet stung from pounding on the pavement for so long. Please let Emma be okay, I begged silently. Please be okay.

I turned the corner and for a moment I thought there was nothing. Than another second passed and I realized something was wrong about the image in front of me. There was a dumpster pulled out so that it blocked the entirety of the alleyway.

As I looked closer, I could see movement. People. Dressed in red and green, the clash of colors making them stand out.

ABB, I swallowed the exertion of all my running catching up to me. I couldn't be sure if this was where Emma was or not, I took a step forward, my knees suddenly shaking. There was only one gangster looking my way, sitting atop the dumpster - a look out. The others were behind the dumpster, gathered around something.

"Fuck off, kid," said the lookout as I approached.

I didn't say anything. Couldn't. I was shaking all over. I strained to look over the dumpster.

There was another dumpster a little farther out, blocking the alley on the other end. And in between them I could make out the hood of a car. It was the Barnes' car. The passenger seat window had been smashed open.

_Emma._

"Hey, you deaf?" The lookout hopped down from his perch so that he stood in front of me, blocking my view, "Fuck off."

I could see the gang members gathered around something. Away from the car. On the side of the broken window. My heartbeat spiked and as my mouth opened, I was worried for a moment that it would leap out. "Wh-wh-what's going on?"

He slapped me. Twice my size, nearly twice my weight, with an open palm, he struck me. I dropped to my knees, just barely catching myself.

"Stupid bitch," he muttered as he grabbed a fistful of my hair. "Yan!" He called out to his friends, "Got another one for you!"

Laughter rose up from the gang, an unexpected prize for them. The lookout yanked and tears sprang from my eyes as my scalp was nearly torn off. I had no choice but to stumble after him as I was dragged around the dumpster.

I finally saw what the dumpster had been hiding. What the other ABB members had been crowding around. Pinned to the ground, her hair wild and her face wet with tears was Emma.

My breath caught and I stared dumbly. A girl was mounted on Emma's chest. Barely older than us. She had a long thin knife - a stiletto - in hand and had it pressed against Emma's cheek, a bead of blood forming where it had pressed too deep.

I opened my mouth, to scream, to shout, to do something, but nothing came out. The lookout threw me to the ground and before I could get up, pressed his boot against my back and forced me back down, crushing me into the concrete. I didn't even have enough room to turn my head, I was stuck watching the girl wave the knife around in Emma's face.

"No help for you," the girl taunted Emma, "Now choose. Eye, nose or ears?"

Emma squirmed, trying to pulling away, but their grip was too tight on her. She turned to look at me, silently pleading.

I had to save her. _Needed_ to save her. Everything I had ever done or did was meaningless compared to this one moment. The _need_ overwhelmed me, a pain swelling in my skull that seemed to fill me up. I could think of nothing else. _Emma needed me_.

My eyes closed and I remembered when I first met Emma.

* * *

I was there and yet at the same time, I wasn't. I felt substanceless, like I had barely any connection to my body at all. No _weight_ to put behind my actions.

It was dark. My vision cloudy and blurred, my limbs heavy and sluggish. The only thing that came clearly to me were my thoughts. The boiling rage building up inside of me.

The _idiot_. The miserable _coward_. She could not have possibly put me into a worse position. Every wrong step that could have possibly been taken, she had taken it.

"Choose," said the girl straddling Emma, still flashing the knife, "Eye, nose or ears."

I opened my mouth to shout, to say something to distract the ABB, but only a slurred meaningless sound came out like I was half-asleep. I was so fucking _weak_.

The whole world seemed off balance, everything askew. I tried to force myself up, but the boot pressed down harder and I gasped in pain.

Why couldn't I see straight? Why couldn't I move? Emma was _right there_ and I couldn't do anything to help her because of this stupid body.

"If you won't choose," the gangster murmured as she raised the knife, "then I'll choose for you."

Emma screamed and her hand shot out like a claw, nails finding soft tissue in the girl's face.

"Augh! Bitch!" The girl cried out and she started to bring the knife down, but before it could land a black shadow soared toward her. The shadow materialized at the last moment, a cloaked figure dropkicking the knife-wielding girl.

The rest of the ABB shouted in confusion, knives and chains being pulled out, but the cloaked figure vanished into smoke before they could even swing. The vigilante danced between the gangsters, throwing punches and kicks in between puffs of smoke.

The gangster who had taken me - the lookout - had gotten off of me. He stood just in front of me, clearly torn between fighting with his friends or running away. His back was to me. I finally had an opportunity to do something.

Summoning all the strength left in me, I tried to push myself up.

It wasn't enough.

My limbs folded beneath me and I lay there on the floor like a corpse. That simple movement had cost me everything I had left. Blackness swirled at the corners of my vision, exhaustion sucking me back into the void.

Emma had _needed_ me. And when it had mattered the most, I had done nothing. I had failed Emma.

And it was _her_ fault. _The coward_.

* * *

* * *

* * *

###### Four Years Ago

Silence reigned over the house, the only sound coming from the rattle of window panes against the wind. Outside, the storm brewed - had been brewing for days - but had yet to start.

Taylor Hebert lay sprawled on the couch, her cheek smushed against the fabric. She stared at a crumpled twenty dollar bill on the coffee table. There was an ache in her stomach, but it barely registered. Nothing seemed to reach her. Not the chill of the air conditioner left on too long, not the flickering of shorted out light bulbs, not the stench of garbage not taken out.

Taylor Hebert lay motionless, only technically alive. A part of her knew that the pain in the pit of her stomach was hunger. Knew that she hadn't eaten a proper meal in days. She was starving, had long since emptied all the cereal boxes. But if she wanted food, all she needed to do was pick up the phone and order. Dad had left her the twenty dollar bill.

That had been yesterday. Taylor closed her eyes, that one small movement causing a headache to spring forth. Up the stairs, just a few steps away, Taylor's father had locked himself in... _his_ room.

Her eyes peeled open, the twenty dollar bill still there. If she didn't do anything, she would die. But at this point it was so hard to care. The headache swelled and Taylor winced, her eyes closing once more as she let the pain push her out.

* * *

I strained to open my eyes. Crust had formed, sealing them closed. I brought a hand up and dug it out. It took me longer than it should have, my hand trembled.

When I finally opened my eyes, I saw nothing had really changed. The twenty dollar bill still lay on the coffee table untouched. I pulled away from the bill, as if it was poisoned. My dad _hated_ me.

Of course he did, why shouldn't he? Mom was going to pick _me_ up. If I hadn't been at Emma's then she would have never needed to come.

My throat tightened, but the tears wouldn't come. My eyes were red and my mouth dry, I had cried all the moisture out. I had never cried this much before. Mom had always been there to calm me down.

I pulled my arms around myself. The cold had cut into me as if my blood had frozen in their veins. I shuddered, trying to get some warmth back in me, but it was no good. I needed something more.

It took all my effort, the focus of my entire mind and body to pull myself up. Every movement felt forced like pushing through quicksand, but in the end I got up.

"Dad," I said, my voice so hoarse and quiet there was no way he could have heard it. I needed to get closer.

I took a step forward. And then another. The ache in my stomach branched out, infecting my limbs, making them wooden. It seemed so fixed in my body, I wonder if this wasn't how it had always been.

I made it to the stairs, each step rising like a wall before me. "Dad," I said again, a little louder, but still too quiet.

My head dropped and my eyes focused on the step ahead of me. Just one at a time. I raised a foot and began to climb the stairs. It would have been so easy to just drop. To collapse and lie down and close my eyes and just go away forever. But more than hunger or exhaustion, what pushed me was the cold that crept at my back.

I made it to the top of the stairs and made the last few steps to the door to my parent's room.

"Dad," I croaked. I pressed against the door, forcing myself closer. "Dad, please," I begged, forcing my voice as loud as I could, "Please, I'm sorry."

Another dry sob forced its way through my throat like a bad hiccup. " _Please_ , dad. I'm sorry. Please don't leave me alone."

I raised a fist to bang against the door, but it never landed. One moment I was standing, the next I was falling. I had finally run out of strength.

Hands caught me and pulled me in.

"Taylor," my dad whispered as he hugged me, "Forgive me."

I looked up at him with half-lidded eyes and smiled. All my strength had evaporated and he held me up as I hugged him back. It wasn't so cold anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should be the last unless the length gets to be excessive.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a double update, make sure you read the next chapter.

Another strange ceiling. Clean, roomy. Dark. A single ray of light shone through a crack in the curtains.

I sat up, a laborious process that made every muscle in my body groan in protest. I blinked drowsily as I surveyed the unfamiliar bedroom. Though I had never seen it before, it was clearly lived-in. A closet door hung open displaying racks of clothes and shoes. A girl's. To my right was a cabinet covered in pens, papers and a variety of knick-knacks. To my left was an IV stand. A drip was connected to my arm.

I started to reach for the drip, but my hand caught against something hard. I looked over to it, my head moving in slow-motion and it took me a moment to register what I was seeing. A white strap hooked my hand to the bed frame. Plastic cuffs.

Restrained. Beyond the IV stand was a door, closed shut. Probably locked. I sighed and fell back into the bed. I was a prisoner.

Of course. Why on earth would anyone let a psycho like me free? I was worse than some run-of-the-mill supervillain, I was _unstable_. One moment they'd be dealing with me, the next with... YT.

My lips twisted at the thought of her. It wasn't enough for the whole world to hate me, I had to contend with my own mind. Was this all I had to look forward to? A lifetime of fighting against myself?

Or maybe, if I was really lucky, she had disappeared forever. I remembered what happened to her. For the first time, I had been able to see the world through her eyes. A front-row seat to her self-destruction.

I turned my head into the pillow as if I could hide under it. I could still remember Lisa's words, the sharpness of them, the pain YT had felt. She deserved it, I told myself, after all she had done, someone needed to make her face just how terrible she really was.

The thought had no weight behind it. I could still remember how badly she - _we_ \- had hurt. I tried to cover my face with a hand, but the cuffs made themselves known again.

Still a prisoner, right. I wondered if it wouldn't have been easier to just kill me.

I had no doubt my captors were the Undersiders and judging by the clothes in the closet, Lisa herself.

I could only think of one reason why they would keep me alive like this: to torture me. Maybe make an example out of me to all the other gangs in Brockton Bay. "Fuck with us and you'll end up like _her_."

There were plenty of bugs in my range. From the positioning and variety of the bugs I was picking up, I figured I was in an apartment building. Fifth floor of a fairly tall building. One of the newer, nicer condominium complexes. Still plenty of insect life for me to figure out some way out of this.

But what was the point in that?

"Hey," I spoke up, my voice raspy. I swallowed and tried again, " _Hey_! I'm awake."

For a moment, silence. And then a stirring from beyond the door. Footsteps. Until finally, the click of a lock and the door opened.

A head with touseled brown hair stuck through the crack.

"Oh, you're awake," Alec said, sounding bored. He took a step into the room and I saw he was sporting a sling for his arm. "Took you long enough."

"I..." I stared at him dumbfounded for a moment. He was too... _casual_. Dressed in pajama pants and a loose grey shirt clearly meant for comfort, I might've woken him up from a nap. "You were waiting for me to wake up?" I managed to ask.

He shrugged, "Yeah, I guess. Supposed to keep an eye on you."

"That's it?"

"Well, if you go all crazy, I'm supposed to try and stop you," he sighed, "But I'm not really feeling it to be honest."

I sat up a little straighter. A faint hope beginning to bloom in my chest. "So," I asked tentatively, "If I just left, you wouldn't..."

"Stop you? Nah. You're kind of a pain in the ass to fight."

"Uh thanks, I guess."

"Not really a compliment, but sure whatever."

My mouth closed as I tried to find something else to say. Alec watched me impassively, still looking as bored as ever.

"Why, uh," I paused. How could I phrase this without sounding absolutely insane? The pause stretched until I just blurted the thought out, "Why didn't you guys kill me?"

Alec's eyes opened a little wider, but that was all the reaction he had. "Do you _want_ us to kill you?"

I flinched. "N-no."

He chuckled, a short dry sound. "You hesitated."

I pursed my lips, glaring at him. He only smiled in return.

"I'm just kidding. As far as I know nobody is killing anybody. Lisa's on her way back," he said calmly, bored again, "She'll explain whatever you want. It's her plan."

Plan? I looked up at Alec, my brow furrowed.

"Save it," he said, cutting my question off before it even formed, "Lisa likes to explain her little schemes and she'd get pissed at me if I told you some half-assed version of it."

I frowned, "But I can still leave if I want?"

"Sure, I guess."

I raised my hand as far as the plastic zip-tie would allow it. "Could you untie me, then?"

"Hm," he eyed me, more than a little wary, "You're not the crazy one, are you?"

"I uh, I'm not the one that tried to kill you?"

He digested that for a moment before nodding. "Good enough." He walked over, picked up a pair of scissors off the cabinet and proceeded to cut the zip-tie. I pulled my hand free and rubbed at the wrist gingerly. The zip-tie hadn't been tight, but those things weren't exactly designed to be comfortable either.

“Now, I’m only gonna ask this once. I wouldn’t normally, but y’know,” he gestured at me as if that explained everything, “You need anything else?”

He still had that detached look, but he was being _nice_. I held back on asking why, not wanting to lose the moment. “Could I get a glass of water?”

“Ugh fine,” Alec groaned, though he had been the one to offer. Before I could change my mind, he was already grumbling his way out of the room. He left without closing the door behind him.

My escape route was right there. I waited another moment, but Alec didn’t spring back into the room. I started to gingerly remove the IV needle in my arm. There was an exhaustion that wore me to the bone, my muscles aching from disuse, but I still had enough energy to sit up.

I swung my legs off the bed, planting them on the floor, but not yet standing. What kept me there was simple. I still had too many questions.

What if this was a trap? What if this was a test? If I took Alec up on his offer to escape, would they take that as a sign that I couldn’t be trusted. Would I be signing my own death warrant by trying to make a run for it? I thought of Lisa’s “plan”. She was a Thinker. Like some sort of mind reader. Did she already know what I would do when presented with a choice like this?

I heard the clack of a door opening and closing. The sound echoed through the hallway and it didn’t take much of a leap to figure out who had just arrived. I looked up as the footsteps began to approach.

“Hey, Taylor,” Lisa smiled at me. She was holding a glass of water.

“Hi,” I mumbled back. She handed me the glass of water and I greedily gulped it down. Cool liquid, I let out a deep sigh after draining the glass.

Lisa sat alongside me on the edge of the bed. “How you feeling?” she asked.

I looked at her. “Shouldn’t you know already?”

“I can guess,” she chuckled, “But I figured I’d ask.”

My gaze went to the glass, staring at the reflection of light. “I’m a fucking mess.”

“Yeah, a little bit.”

I gave her a sidelong glance.

“Okay, more than a little bit.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. I _knew_ I was crazy. But that craziness just meant that every thought in my head was in doubt. Hearing someone else say it aloud though, that just confirmed it. I was insane. My laugh died down and I was left staring at the glass again.

“Got it out of your system?” Lisa asked calmly.

“I wish,” I said.

“Well, I’ll tell you what. The first step to recovery is knowing you have a problem.”

“Isn't that the first step in Alcoholics Anonymous?”

“Still applicable.”

“I’m not an alcoholic.”

“Not exactly, but there are similarities. A lot of people who start drinking do it because they’re trying to escape from something. You get drunk, you forget your old problems, your inhibitions disappear and sometimes you can even seem like a completely different person.”

I frowned. “That's bit of a stretch.”

"Sure," Lisa said with a shrug, "But that's not my point. What I mean is that there are ways of dealing with your condition. It's not unheard of.”

I raised an eyebrow and let my expression say everything for me.

"I'm not saying it'll be _easy_ , but given everything that's happened?" Lisa paused giving me a once-over glance. "You've been through a lot these past few days. I'd guess this is the most emotionally exposed you've ever been. This is probably the best chance you'll ever get."

My frown deepened. I didn't miss how that "you" went from singular to plural.

"So what then?" I asked.

Lisa leaned in, putting her face inches from mine. Her eyes bore down on me and I flinched, looking away to a corner of the room.

"Taylor, please look at me."

I couldn't bring myself to do so. Her stare had sent chills down my spine. The reality of what I had done to her, what I _nearly did_ pricked at my conscious. I didn't deserve her attention, her care.

"Taylor, I'm serious, I need your 100% undivided focus."

Her voice carried weight, a level of force that I couldn't resist and grudgingly, I met her eyes.

"You need to _talk_. You can't keep doing this. You know that. You need to face yourself." Lisa gave me a tight-lipped smile, "For what it's worth, I forgive you. So that's one thing you can put behind yourself."

Oh, I blinked. She wasn't talking to me. Or she was, but not just me. The two of us. It took another moment for the meaning of her words to reach me.

"You want us to _talk_? Me and _her_?" I asked incredulous.

Lisa leaned back, her smile a little more relaxed. "Yup."

"That's insane."

It was Lisa's turn to look incredulous. "Let's not go down that road, alright?"

I grimaced, she had a point.

"What would I even say to her?" I asked, biting my lip, "We're total opposites, we hate each other."

"I think you'd be surprised. You two have more in common than you think."

I shook my head, but didn't say anything. Lisa was wrong in that, YT and I really did have nothing but our body in common. But Lisa seemed set on this and I doubted I could change her mind.

"So," I held up my hands and stared at them, unsure if they were really mine, "I just start talking aloud? Hope she responds?"

Lisa stood up, stretching as she did. "Honestly?" She said, "I'm not really sure. Meditate, write it down, whatever. The main point is _try_."

I looked back to my hands, their presence growing stranger by the moment. How far removed was I? If I connected with her would she take over one hand? And if I did, would she try to strangle me? It was like a scene out of a schlocky 50s horror film.

"Well, I've said my piece," Lisa turned to the door, "I'll leave you to it."

"Wait!" I called out, breaking out of my reverie to grab Lisa's wrist. There were so many things I needed to say to her, so many questions I still needed to ask her. In the end, what I settled with was " _Why_? Why are you doing this for me?"

Lisa smiled. "Do you want the smart reason? Or the dumb one?"

"Both," I answered.

"The smart reason is that Armsmaster has our secret identities. Which would've been manageable by going underground, but some of us have... responsibilities that require our civillian identities. It's a vulnerability that Armsmaster can exploit whenever he wants, hurt us that way and likely break the team up entirely." Lisa turned to face me. "That's where you come in. You worked with Armsmaster for a while. You know that he did things he wasn't supposed to. You're living proof that he fucked up."

I sucked in a breath. "So I'm just a bargaining chip? A piece of blackmail to use?"

Lisa frowned, "I wouldn't say that. It's the sort of arrangement where we scratch your back, you scratch ours."

"Of course," I muttered through grit teeth. Of fucking course.

"That's the _smart_ reason. That’s after considering everything that’s happened and what we need to do.” Lisa let out a soft sigh. “The other reason came about when I first met you. The very first time."

I looked up at her, my anger already dissapating.

"When I saw you on that rooftop after having just fought off Lung…" Lisa said, "Well, if it wasn’t obvious already, I’m pretty good at getting a read on people.”

Lisa bit her lip, her words catching, but I didn’t press. This was already more than I had expected.

“You reminded me of someone. Someone I cared about. I thought I could help you,” Lisa sighed, “But I made a _mistake_. Misinterpreted the clues or just saw what I wanted to see. Your issues were completely different and because of how I handled it, I made it worse.”

She looked up to me, a bitter smile on her face. “So if you wanna know why I’m doing this, it’s because I want to make it up to you.”

I stared at her, speechless.

Lisa slipped out of my grasp and headed for the door. “I’ll leave you to it then,” she looked back with a smirk, “You have a lot to talk about.”

She left closing the door behind her, leaving me all by myself. Just the two of us.

* * *

I lay on the bed spread-eagle. Hours had passed and Lisa's words still lingered with me. She felt like she had to make it up to me. It was ridiculous.

A part of me still wanted to chase after her, tell her she was wrong, throw myself at her mercy and beg for her forgiveness. I didn't deserve a fraction of what she had done for me.

Another part, the more vocal one, wanted to hoard her kindness. What did it matter the circumstance, there was someone who _cared_.

I closed my eyes and breathed. Just in and out, a steady rhythm. Gradually my pulse steadied.

I had always known something was wrong with me. Other people didn't think like this. They didn't suffer panic attacks from the slightest hint of aggression or obsess over people they just met. Even without YT, I was a freak.

What had Lisa said before? We were 'emotionally exposed'? Talking about my feelings had always made me uncomfortable, the very thought making my intestines wriggle like worms. But at this point, I just needed to get the words out.

"Your's Truly, huh?" I muttered, "A bit pretentious don't you think?"

No response. I went on.

"You really had me going, y'know. Can you believe I thought you were _Rory Christner_. The mayor's son. As if he would even care about someone like me."

I laughed, a sharp bitter sound.

"You made for a good target. A vague figure in the distance that I could direct all my pent-up feelings towards. It felt _good_ to finally have someone I could 100% hate."

My lips pressed together as an uncomfortable sensation rumbled up through my abdomen to my jaw. There was no point in holding back. We were stuck with one another.

"I still hate you," I said.

"The feeling's mutual," she replied.

I laughed. She had spoken up. Her words coming out through my - _our_ mouth.

"No way around it then," I said, "This is what we are. Two people stuck in one."

"Two people who _hate_ each other," she corrected me. The stickler.

"And there's no other alternative, we hate each other. Talking it out won't solve anything."

"No."

I smiled. I couldn't help it. "I guess we finally found our common ground."

She smiled back, the turn of her lips mirroring mine. "We've always been stubborn."

"So how do we manage? We both know we can't keep this up."

I felt a flare of her anger, but just as suddenly it cooled, and she let out a long breath. In a collected voice, she spoke, "Any other day and I would've said that I could. But it's true, fighting one another is pointless. _Dangerous_."

A memory flashed through my mind, tires screeching, metal crashing and the jolt of my world being torn apart.

"Yeah," I said quietly, thinking of my meeting with the Undersiders in the boat.

We went silent. Both of us reliving the moments of the other.

"Maybe," I spoke up, "We could just… y'know."

She understood my meaning immediately. " _No_."

"No one would miss us and you've seen it yourself, people would probably be better off."

" _No_ ," she said again, harsher.

I shrugged. "Just an idea."

"It's the coward's way out."

I grit my teeth, but swallowed my retort. "Fine," I said, "Then what brilliant plan do you have?"

"A contest. You and me, we settle this once and for all and whoever wins gets full control."

I could barely keep from rolling my eyes. I'm sure she felt it regardless. "You have to be joking," I said, "That's exactly what we've been doing these past few days."

"Wrong," she retorted, annoyed, "We've been sniping at each other from afar. This would be a head-to-head confrontation."

I frowned. "Still not interested. You wouldn't stay buried even if I did win."

"You think you could even beat me?" She asked with a sneer.

I ignored her taunt. "Neither of us would disappear for very long."

"Hm," she grunted, not disagreeing.

"How about we take turns?" I suggested.

"Now _that_ is exactly what we've been doing already."

"We would be organized about it," I explained, "I take one day, you take the next. Hour for hour, day for day and so on."

"And I repeat, we would just end up in the same position as we are now."

"Yeah," I sighed, "I guess."

The silence returned, more oppressive than before. Was this everything we had? I still hated YT and she still hated me, but there had to be some sort of alternative to this madness.

My mind wandered to my first suggestion.

"What do you want?" YT asked suddenly, interrupting my thought.

I blinked. Her voice was softer, not as pointed. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"It could maybe work, the turn thing. If we set rules and kept to them."

"What sort of rules?"

"Idiot. That's why I'm asking you, what do you want?"

The uneasiness bubbled in my stomach, but I cast it aside. "Friends," I blurted out, "People who won't hate me, people who'll accept me even… even like _this_."

"Even if those people are criminals, _supervillains_ even?"

"Even if they're criminals."

"Like the Undersiders."

"Yes."

Muscles tensed in my jaw, my neck strung taut as a wire. She was trying to pulverize my teeth, grind them against one another until they were nothing but dust. Pain spiked through me and for a moment I was afraid my teeth really had shattered.

And then the tension was gone. My body fell limp and I was left panting as if I had run a mile.

Through each breath she spoke, " _Fine_. The Undersiders are _fine_. They're not murderers, only petty robbers. If they agree to fight the Endbringers, do their part when needed, then _fine_."

"Yes!" I gasped, trembling with joy, "Yes! I can - we can talk to them, tell them that we don't have to fight anymore! If we join -"

" _Condition_ ," YT cut me off, "We can't join their team." My heart plummeted. "We will not help them commit any of their crimes. We will not rob or steal or any of that. I _refuse_."

"B-but you said," I stuttered, the whiplash of emotions overwhelming me, "You said they were fine?"

"I did. You can…" Her teeth clenched again, and she practically hissed, "Keep in touch with them. Be _friends_. But I will _not_ become a criminal."

My mouth opened, but closed with no sound leaving it. YT was _compromising_. I could feel how much it pained her, how she had to struggle to even say the words. But this was her olive branch to me and if I said the wrong thing, she would pull away entirely and we would be back to square one. I wanted to be with the Undersiders, to be friends with Lisa, Alec, Brian and even Rachel. I wasn't sure if they felt the same, if they ever would, but the possibility - the _hope_ was intoxicating. My mind was already racing with imagined scenarios of us all together, enjoying a movie or going out for dinner. If I was their teammate then the friendship would no doubt come easier.

Without the team connection however, I had nothing to rely on except for… me. And I knew what I was. A miserable coward, a clingy obsessive girl with way too much baggage. The Undersiders had experienced it all first-hand, they knew perhaps better than anyone what sort of psycho I really was. And yet they hadn't killed me.

There was, I concluded, a small hope.

"Okay," I said, "What do you want then?"

"You know what I want," YT said resolutely, "I want to do some good for this rotten world. I want to become a hero, a real hero. Not just some pretender in it for the fame. We have powers and we have a responsibility to put it to a good use."

I closed my eyes. Did _I_ sound this deranged? I could see the life she wanted, endless nights spent chasing down crooks and monsters. A solitary, never-ending battle against human nature itself.

But it was what she wanted and she had listened to my request, not quite without judgement, but she had listened all the same.

"Ok," I said, "Let's be a 'hero'."

"Excellent," she grinned, "Once we're fully healed we'll report to the Pro-"

"But!" I raised my voice, "We won't join the Protectorate."

" _What_?"

"Think about it," I said, "If we're a Protectorate hero, there's no hope of me connecting with the Undersiders. It would be a conflict of interest, right?"

Through clenched teeth, she answered, "I suppose."

"We can still do good or whatever," I quickly said, trying to recover her, "We don't need a badge to help people."

"We'd be a vigilante," she sneered.

"We'd be like New Wave," I countered, "Except without the public identity stuff."

"Hm."

No retort or dismissal. I smiled. I could feel her mind running through the process.

She didn't take quite as long as me.

"Fine," she said, "We can do this. Hammer out the details later."

I sighed with relief, the impossible had been settled. We were actually going to work together. I started to smile, but stopped as the tail-end of her statement stuck with me. "Why later?"

"I have another condition," she explained, "There's still a few things we need to do."

"What are you talking about?"

"There's people we need to see."

* * *

Lisa kept her eyes forward on the road, her hands firmly planted on the wheel.

"You sure you want to do this?" Lisa asked.

"Yes," I answered quietly.

"And it really has to be _now_?"

I suppressed the twinge of annoyance at her needling. She was already a frustrating presence without the second-guessing. Tolerate her, I chanted silently to myself, all I needed to do was tolerate her.

"Yes," I answered again.

"Okay," she replied, a little more guarded.

The car pulled up into the hospital parking lot and we got out together. She wanted to say something I could tell, but I did my best to put her out of my mind. She was an unfortunate necessity, nothing more. Tolerate her.

We entered the hospital, wading past moaning patients-to-be and the overwhelmed staff. It was just busy enough that no one noticed the two of us lingering at the staff-only door. There was a keypad, but Lisa only needed a moment to look it over before she entered the correct code and let us through. Lisa's powers were handy to have and again I had to push aside the irritation of how she wasted it.

She led the way, navigating the hospital hallways as if she worked there herself. It wasn't long before we reached the basement elevator. As the name implied, this elevator only went to the basement levels: storage and the morgue.

I hit the button for the morgue and we descended. Again, I could feel Lisa fidgeting, she had an almost physical addiction to speaking and going this long without having said anything was clearly bothering her.

"Lisa?" I said, breaking our silence.

"Yes?" She answered cautiously.

"I'm sorry," I said.

She stared at me uncomprehending, so I added, "For trying to kill you."

"Ah, right." Lisa paused, thinking it over before speaking, "No worries."

"Good."

There was a ding and the elevator doors slid open. We stepped out and already I could feel the chill. Since we had come through the elevator usually reserved for the staff, the hallway wasn't as well-kept. The lights dimmer, the corners not fully swept and again, the chill. No need to waste money on heating when so few down here required it.

"This way," Lisa said, taking a turn and I followed her. I couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy for her power. So much seemed to come to her automatically. To simply _know_ things. If I had her power would this whole ordeal have gone down smoother? Would I have been able to stop myself before I had...

"This is it," Lisa said, breaking my train of thought. She indicated the door ahead of us. "New arrivals,"

My jaw set and I nodded. There was no point in thinking of maybes and what-ifs. I could only contend with what was before me. I set my hand on the doorknob and steadied my breathing.

I had to do this, I told myself. This was just the first step of many to making things right.

_You can do this_.

I opened the door and entered the morgue.

There was only one body left out just as Lisa had promised there would be. It lay on a metal gurney, a blue sheet pulled over its face. The sight struck me like a typhoon, but I forced myself forward. Momentum was the only thing that carried me closer. If I stopped for even a moment, I would collapse.

There was a part of me that still refused to acknowledge what was in right in front me. The Undersiders could have faked the report, pulled up a dummy corpse or even just murdered someone and blamed me. The possibilities ran endlessly, desperately through my mind. I was coming up with anything to avoid facing the truth.

I caught myself on the edge of the gurney and stood there, knees wobbling. I had to do this, I reminded myself. I had to.

I took the blue sheet and pulled it back.

I flinched at the sight of him. He was young. Barely a man. Hispanic, a bit on the short side. Laying there with his eyes closed, he almost looked asleep - if it weren't for the fact that his skin had turned a mottled grey. If it weren't for the fact that he was so still.

The more I looked at him, the deeper the revulsion set in. I was _evil_.

I opened my mouth, suppressed a gag and tried again. I didn't know what would make this right. If anything ever would. But I did know what I had to start with.

"I'm sorry."

* * *

* * *

* * *

I came out of the morgue, feeling drained. My chest was still sore from the thunderous thumping of my heart. I had to put a hand against the wall to steady myself.

Lisa eyed me carefully for a moment, before it clued in and then she rushed to my side, propping me up. Grudgingly, I leaned on her.

"That bad, huh?" Lisa asked.

"Yes."

"It's settled then?"

"No," I said, "But it's not so bad now."

"Good enough, I guess. Come on, let's go." Lisa started walking, leading me away from the morgue. "We should get out of here before somebody notices."

I grunted assent and together we staggered our way to the elevator. By the time we were inside, I had recovered enough to stand on my own. There had been a moment where it seemed like I would crack, but I had managed to hold on. I wouldn't give up, I had promised my victim that much.

The elevator arrived at the ground floor and we walked past a confused nurse. He looked at us, the question on his lips, but we were already heading towards the exit and he didn't pursue us. The lobby was still packed, but had settled down somewhat, the most urgent cases dealt with. We started to wade our way through, when a flash of red hair caught my eye.

Sitting on a bench all by herself, absorbed in her phone and still dressed in those ratty sweater clothes was...

"Emma."

Lisa looked back at me. "What?"

"It's Emma," was all I said as if that explained anything.

"Oh," Lisa blinked, " _Oh_."

_We need to go._ A pain spiked in my head, but I pushed it back easily.

"Do you..." Lisa stared at me, her brow scrunched. "No, wait a second," she muttered as she tried to figure out what was happening.

_No, don't do this. Not now._

My lips were set into a grim line. "It has to be now."

Lisa's eyes lit up as the pieces fell together. She pushed herself against me, her voice a hissed whisper, "She's not ready!"

I regarded Lisa coolly, "She'll never be ready. It's who she is."

"You don't get to make the choice for her!" Lisa retorted.

I grit my teeth. Too tired to get into the details of an argument that had been boiling for years. "Someone has to."

Emma looked up, her attention drawn by our whispered argument. As our eyes met, I could feel the coward flinch.

_Please,_ she thought, _I'm scared._

I took a step forward. "You've been scared for years," I replied.

A hand latched onto my wrist, yanking me back.

"This is _wrong_ ," Lisa said with a glare.

"It's overdue," I glanced at Emma who was looking more and more annoyed with every passing second, "It's what she needs."

Lisa stared me down, but I was unyielding. The faint hope from the coward that this would deter me only fueled me further. Lisa didn't know the details, no matter how she guessed. Didn't know that the coward had endured years of abuse because deep-down she had believed she deserved it.

But if we were really making a fresh start _together_ , then we had to put this behind us. No more loose ends. I wrenched my hand away from Lisa and she didn't try to stop me this time.

I walked over to Emma and planted myself in the seat next to her.

_Your turn_ , I thought as I let go and faded into the background.

* * *

"What the fuck do _you_ want?" Emma snarled.

It amazed me that I didn't just faint immediately, instead I only broke out into a cold sweat. My every pore oozed, but at least I wasn't comatose.

"Don't ignore me, you freak," Emma sat a little straighter, "What makes you think it's okay for you to sit next to me?"

I winced. I had almost forgotten how much venom Emma could inject in so few words. It was so hard to argue with her when you knew she was right.

In the corner of my eye, I could see Lisa hanging off to the side, her arms folded as she watched us impatiently. I opened my mouth to cry for help, but my throat had clamped shut and no sound came out. Was that just me being pathetic or YT?

"Did _she_ put you up to this?" Emma asked.

My head snapped to Emma, but then I realized she was only talking about Lisa.

"How sweet," Emma sneered, "You've found someone else to disappoint. I wonder how long it'll take for her to realize what you really are."

I wilted, my stomach dropping like I had just swallowed an anchor. There it was. My grand fuck-up. Not doing a damn thing when Emma needed me the most. I had relived that day in my head a million times over, each time wondering what I could have done differently. If I had just been more patient with the 911 operator or if I had gone to get help from someone who could actually do something. If I had just been anyone other _me_.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled.

"What?" Emma asked. And for a moment I thought she had simply hadn't heard me. But then hands grabbed me by the shirt and Emma was standing over me, nearly pulling me off my seat as she yelled in my face. " _What did you just say?_ "

"I-I'm sorry?" I answered feebly, more shocked than anything. Emma wasn't one to get physical, her attacks were more verbal - emotional.

"God, I can't believe you! You're always so _miserable_. You... _fucking pathetic little shit_ ," Emma screeched and with all her strength she threw me out of the seat. I crashed to the floor, still more confused than anything else. This wasn't how Emma operated. All her insults and bullying before had been calculated, precise in their humiliation and punishment. This was... aimless.

We were suddenly the center of attention for the lobby, though none of the staff had yet come to break us up. People were craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the spectacle.

Emma stalked forward, looking ready to pounce on me, but she was stopped as Lisa moved in her way.

"Back off," Lisa said, her voice menacingly low.

Emma stared Lisa down and that's when I saw it. There were tears in her eyes. They were red-rimmed and overflowing. Her nose was dribbling snot. It was the worst I had ever seen her.

Emma's eyes flicked to me and her expression twisted into a snarl again. "You're _weak_. I'm _nothing_ like you."

With that parting shot, Emma turned and pushed her way past the crowd of spectators.

I watched her go, my brain still struggling to parse what just happened. I barely registered that she had shoved and yelled at me, what stuck with me was that Emma was a _mess_.

It didn't take much of a leap to guess something was wrong. People didn't visit the hospital for fun. But at the same time, I had an awareness, a glowing thought that shone like a beacon. Whatever happened to Emma, it wasn't _my_ fault. It was a selfish thought, but its truth was intoxicating. Emma had lashed out at me, not because she blamed me, but because I was _there_. Just a convenient outlet. I closed my eyes and the relief was so palpable I could taste it.

"Well, that was _something_."

I looked up and saw Lisa holding her hand out for me. She was forcing a smile, apologetic. I took her hand gratefully and got back to my feet.

"We're not gonna have to chase after her, are we?" Lisa asked.

My eyes were still on the spot where Emma disappeared. Slowly, I shook my head. "No, I think..." I took a deep breath, the words coming out as I exhaled, "That's enough."

"Thank God," Lisa muttered as she hooked her arm with mine. "Now let's get out of here."

I nodded and as we left the hospital, I found that I wasn't worrying about Emma, the crowd or even Lisa. For the first time in years, I felt calm.


	15. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a double update, make sure you don't miss the previous chapter.

Andre had never been the most adventurous person. Cautious and thoughtful. He had a promising future ahead of him, honor roll student, top of his class and a scholarship to a nice college far away from Brockton Bay. He was set, so why risk it?

Well, that had been the Andre before the club. Before the liquor and the girls. A practice run for college his brother had called it and at first Andre had only been there out of obligation - he was after all the "guest of honor". But then one sip turned into a shot and then another and another until out-of-nowhere the girls had arrived with their easy smiles and short skirts.

Andre's brother had wasted no time, his hands deep down one girl's shirt, his face tied to her's. If Andre was envious of his brother of anything, it was his confidence. Andre had a girl practically in his lap and he could barely look at her.

But she wasn’t deterred by his shyness, if anything it spurred her on. She pressed against him until he had nowhere else to look and whatever he couldn’t see, he could feel. It was hard to tell the color of her skin, she was light enough that she reflected the shifting neon blues and purples of the club. It made her seem even more alien to Andre, whose dark skin seemed to absorb the light.

She brought her face closer to his, slanted eyes dark with eye shadow taking him in. For a moment he thought she was going to kiss him and he desperately thought back to how it was done in the movies. But instead, she only put her lips against his ear and whispered, "Let's get out of here."

She pulled away, a coy smile on her lips as she looked at him expectantly.

Andre - seven shots deep and overloaded with hormones - nodded.

She giggled and took his hand, pulling him out of his seat. Distantly, Andre thought of saying something to his brother, but the girl was nimble and he didn't want to risk losing her. Long buried urges brewed beneath the surface and Andre wouldn't have let go of the girl if it had meant the world.

They went through one door and then another until finally they were alone in an alleyway behind the club. The girl turned on him, drawing his hands around her waist. The darkness afforded them some privacy and she set herself against the wall, him over her. He could smell her, the bubbly fruity scent of her. A switch activated in Andre and an appetite that he never realized he had suddenly surfaced. He seized her and brought his face to her's...

A hand settled on his shoulder. Rough and large, offensive in every way the girl was pleasing. Anger sparked in Andre and he whirled around, ready to tell off whoever was interrupting him.

As he turned, he saw a blur. A fist, he realized just as it struck him in the face.

Andre slumped to the ground. His vision swam, the world spinning around him until he felt a nausea deep in his gut. His eyes dragged upward, trying to find the source of his pain. Not out of any hope for reprisal, but simply because he still needed to comprehend what just happened.

A lanky man stood over him, tall, with slicked-back black hair. He was taking something off his hand, a ring? A whole set of them, in fact. Andre made the connection at last - his brother had showed him a pair once - brass knuckles.

Pocketing the discreet weapon, the lanky man crouched down next to Andre's prone form. Andre's eyes were still unfocused, but he could finally make out the face of his attacker and the color of his jacket. Asian wearing red and green.

The ABB thug slapped him on the face so gently it was almost loving. Andre opened his mouth to say something, but he only slurred out a low "ugh".

"Why black guy?" The ABB thug asked with a frown, his thick accent doubly difficult to understand when your head felt like a circus. "Black guy not gonna have any money."

Andre was too dazed to feel indignant. He only wondered who the gangster was talking to.

"You should've seen them partying," a voice replied from out of sight. A girl's voice. But there was no one else here except for... oh.

"Boy here was a big spender,” the girl elaborated.

"Hrm," grunted the ABB thug as he began rifling through Andre's pockets. He found Andre's wallet and opened it before sucking his teeth in disgust.

"Black boy fucking _poor_ ," he spat. The ABB thug looked up at his partner, his teeth bared in a snarl. "Why you pick him? You think he cute?"

"Of course not, don't be stupid," the girl replied quickly. Too quickly, but it wasn't because she was hiding anything. It was because she was scared.

The thug stood up, dropping the wallet, the money forgotten. "You let him fuck you before you bring him out?"

"No!" The girl shouted, agitated, "I barely touched him. Come on, you're being stupid."

"You fuck him?" The thug asked again, as if the girl hadn't just denied it.

"No!" The girl's voice cracked, "Come on, I just led him on. He's nothing, okay? Ugly piece of shit, I don't give a fuck about him."

The thug stared her down and she squirmed under his gaze. When he finally moved, she flinched, but he was only reaching into his jacket. Even in the darkness of alleyway, there was just enough light to catch off the blade of the knife.

The girl's eyes went wide and she took a step back. The thug smirked and flipped the knife, holding the handle out to her.

"Prove it," he said. He jerked his head at Andre, "He nothing, right? You don't give a fuck?"

"Yeah, of course, come on, we -"

"Prove it," he growled. He jerked the knife forward.

Cornered, she took it.

"Cut him," the thug said.

"Yeah," the girl replied irritably, "I know okay, I got it."

Turning slowly towards Andre, the girl's jaw set and a hard look came to her eyes. It was the look of somebody who had already gone too far to turn back now.

As she approached him, Andre felt a surge of panic rush through his veins. He needed to get out. To run away. His hands scrambled beneath him, but they kept slipping uselessly. He couldn't die here, he just couldn't. His mouth peeled open to say something, convince them, beg them, to scream, but he only groaned like a dead man.

The girl grabbed his shirt and lifted him up just enough that she didn't need to stoop.

"Tough luck," she said as she raised the knife.

"Augh! Fuck!" The knife fell, but not into Andre. It clattered to the floor as the girl stepped back, rubbing at her eye.

"What wrong?" The thug asked, his accent thicker than ever with the surprise.

"Nothing," the girl muttered, still rubbing at her eye, "Just something... something in my eye."

"You fucking with me?" The thug grabbed the girl by her arm and yanked, pulling her off-balance, nearly throwing her to the floor. "You think I -"

He stopped mid-sentence and gagged. A wet cough as if he was drowning. He stumbled backwards, still holding onto the girl and together they crashed against the wall. The girl cried out in pain and dropped to her knees, but the thug was still on his feet, he was leaning over as if to puke, still making that wet gagging sound.

A shadow moved from behind Andre. Thin and tall, dressed in dark colors. The only thing that gave away that it was a person at all was the long flowing brown hair. A girl.

She flicked her wrist and with a series of snaps a baton extended. The ABB thug raised his head just in time to see the baton strike him square in the chin. He toppled, landing with a giant _whump_ as he hit the floor.

The other ABB member, the girl clutched her eye with one hand and raised her knife with the other. The knife was held out like a pike, trying to force the costumed girl back. One swing from the baton and the knife went skidding to the floor. Another and the ABB girl was laid out.

Andre let out a breath. The fight had lasted only a few seconds. It barely seemed even real, the costumed girl moving with machine-like brutal efficiency. She surveyed the area, head tilting with deliberate slowness left and then right.

Satisfied, she collapsed the baton and attached it to her belt. From the same belt, she pulled out a pair of plastic ties, tying up the two ABB members. Once that was done, only then did she look at Andre.

He flinched at the sight of her. Her eyes were bulbous yellow and she had black mandibles for a mouth. It took him a second longer for him to realize it was only a mask.

She walked over and crouched next to him. Wordlessly she reached out - to strangle him, he thought with panic - and touched the back of his head. When she pulled her hand back, Andre could see the sheen of blood.

"Can you speak?" She asked.

She sounded surprisingly normal. Andre had expected a buzzing monotone, but in fact she sounded like any other girl.

"Yuh," Andre slurred.

She frowned at him. "You have a concussion. You'll be dizzy for a while, but you'll be fine if you take it easy." She put a hand on his chest and spoke a little more sternly, "Don't try to get up. Wait for the paramedics to arrive. I've already made the call, they'll be here soon."

Andre nodded, a small dip of his chin.

This was a cape wasn't it? He tried to remember which, but there were so many in Brockton Bay it was hard to keep track of them all. She seemed to be one of the good guys, but then again Andre felt like he would've remembered such an edgy looking hero in the official line-ups.

If Andre had been more a little more lucid, he would've known that he was better off not wondering about the scary-looking parahuman. Sometimes the gang factions fought between one another and God knew the ABB had an endless supply of enemies. There was no guarantee that this girl wasn't just as bad as the ABB. It would have been safer to just shut up and be happy he was still alive.

But instead, concussed, drunk and adventurous Andre looked up at the girl and spoke.

"You... seem familiar."

As if she had been put to the rack, the costumed girl stiffened.

"You're mistaken," she said curtly, "You don't know me."

Andre blinked blearily. He had a vague image of a girl two years below him at Winslow, withdrawn and fearful, always ducking her head and groveling. He didn't really know her, only remembered because of the "locker incident". After all, he had been there. Just a few feet away as Sophia snuck up behind her.

"Sorry," he said slowly, just barely above slurring. For a moment that was enough to make the cape relax. And then Andre opened his mouth again, "You good now?"

She turned, the yellow lenses of her mask bearing down on him like twin spotlights. "What?"

It was a look that would have stopped old Andre in his tracks and made him collapse into a puddle of fear. But as Andre stared into that mask, he only felt one thing.

"Sorry," he said again, "I..." he licked his lips as another wave of dizziness washed over him, "I should've done something."

The cape was motionless now, so still Andre couldn't even see her breathing.

He went on heedless. "Can I make it up to you?" Andre asked.

Her stare bore into him, but Andre has nothing left to say, he only dumbly stared back.

She broke off first, her head dipping suddenly as if she had fallen asleep.

When she looked up, Andre could tell right away there was something different about her. She was more relaxed, her shoulders no longer squared and even her the mask didn't seem so intense.

"Don't worry," she said in a softer voice, "There's nothing to make up for."

Andre started to open his mouth, but she went on.

"A hero doesn't ask for anything in return for what they do. There's no need to thank me."

Andre blinked. "That's not what I-"

"I appreciate the thought," she spoke over him, "But I've got all I need."

"Oh." Andre let his head rest back, even the hard concrete seemed comfortable now. "Okay."

In the distance, the wail of sirens began and the cape took it as a signal. She tensed, her shoulders squared again and she stood deliberately, carefully maneuvering herself so she wouldn't jostle Andre. She started to turn away, but stopped as Andre called out to her one more time.

"What do I call you?"

She looked back at him. "Right now, it's Weaver."

"Weaver," Andre mumbled to himself.

She was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of Just the Two of Us.
> 
> It went on a little longer than I thought it would and I really struggled with the ending, but I finally got there. There's a lot more I want to say on that subject, but I'll refrain for now. I'm just glad I was able to finish this story when it seemed for a long time that I wouldn't.
> 
> Thank you for reading Just the Two of Us.


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